Fighting to Forget
by DeathxIncarnate
Summary: Whitney was alone. Broken and using to keep numb, she decides to take a final road trip before finally giving in. When she stumbles into the Winchester brothers by chance, will her outlook on life change? Is it possible for her to feel something other than agony? Maybe with a little help from a special Angel she can finally find peace. *Done Editing. Everything's fixed! (3.1.17)*
1. Drowning

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter One;**

 **Drowning**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural** **or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

I entered the hotel on the corner of Kearney and Kansas. The foreign hotel clerk eyed me as I made my way to the counter. His gaze fell over my form as if I were stark naked. He was a short tanned man with black hair and an abnormally large nose.

As I approached him I could make out his name tag: 'Akeim'. _Fucking sleaze ball._ Of course I was drunk. Again. I was doing _anything_ and _everything_ to help numb the pain.

I needed a place to stay for the week or so that I would be in town and this was the first nice hotel I had spotted, and to be perfectly honest I was too drunk to drive any further. The white banner outside also proudly boasted the words ' **Newly Remodeled'** in brightly colored font. I didn't need any further convincing.

"That's eight hundred and five dollars for the week." Akeim said. His Indian accent was thick and I could barely make out what he said. Or maybe that was just the Jack clouding my mind. I pulled my wallet from the back of my jeans and counted out the cash. I grimaced when his hand brushed mine as I handed the money to him. His fingers lingered just a second longer than was necessary. He swiped the small plastic rectangle and punched a few numbers into the keypad. He smirked a little before placing my key card on the counter in front of me, his hand settling next to it as if he were going to try and grab my hand when I reached for it.

"Room 209." He said darkly, his look still disgustingly lecherous.

 _Keep eyeing me like a fucking steak, pervert and I'll shove my bayonet into your skull._

Although, I was pretty much trashed to the point of blacking out and was uncertain if I could even properly defend myself if he tried anything. Not that I couldn't handle my own, but as fucked up as I was, I wouldn't walk away unscathed. My knife felt hot against my calf but I refrained from pulling it from my boot.

Even through the haze of the alcohol and lingering effects of speed in my system, I managed to scowl at him before I slammed my hand on the counter snatching up my key. He flinched hard, eyes painfully wide, obviously startled by the hostile way I had taken the key. I tossed a nasty look in his direction as I hitched my duffle over my shoulder, vision now dangerously blurry, before turning around and stumbling on my way down the hallway to the elevator.

I was finally out of sight of the front desk. Not a lot of things made me feel uneasy, given my experience, but I was clearly under the influence and that made me look like an easy target. A hot piece of ass with a target on her back that screamed 'vulnerable'. I just needed to get to my room and sleep.

"Fucking piece of shit." I muttered to myself, trying four times before finally finding the elevator call button. I took a deep breath and willed myself to sober up just enough to make it to the actual bed before passing out. I pressed my hand against the wall to help steady myself.

After all that had happened over the last couple months at least I could now afford a better hotel to stay in. Thanks to the goddamned Devil. No more rundown hotel rooms, ramshackled halfway houses and worries about when I would have my next meal. ' _Thank you life insurance.'_ I thought bitterly. At least the rest of my short miserable life would be luxurious. Might as well make the best of it. Jacuzzis, king sized feather beds, champagne, all the drugs I could get my hands on and bedding every attractive man that I came across. If it made me feel good and kept my mind busy then you best bet that I was going to do it.

Before leaving ' _home_ ' I stopped by my dealer's house to stock up for my… let's call it a 'road trip'. I was determined not to be sober another day before my death. I wanted to feel _good_ again. Peaceful, if you will. The drugs drowned out the bad feelings and thoughts and most of all they made me feel _happy. 'At least until I start to come down'._ My subconscious reminded me. No matter, I still had plenty enough to be high for months. How long had it been since I felt something other than pain without the aid of an illegal substance?

With my newfound wealth I managed to stock up on anything Irish had on hand before hitting the road. In the trunk of my car, carefully hidden in the inner lining of my suitcase, was a bag full of anything and everything from Adderall to Xanax. Not to mention a beautiful old bottle of Jack that my dad had been saving for ten years. I had special plans for that one though. ' _God bless you, Daddy._ '

I stared down at my black combat boots, amused with the fact that the floor seemed to be rippling underneath me like water. I swayed a little, the back of my scalp hot and prickling like needles. ' _I must have taken too much._ ' I sighed outwardly. I just need to sleep it off is all. Right? My stomach growled loudly and I couldn't help but smile at the strange gurgling sound. When was the last time I ate again?

I was in the middle of remembering the last meal I had when the elevator door dinged and slid open. Not bothering to look up from the liquid floor, dreaming about a juicy burger and fries, I took a brisk step forward and collided hard with what felt like a brick wall. I was promptly put on my ass.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright?!" The stranger exclaimed. Whoever it was had a deliciously deep voice. My lower belly fluttered with anxious want.

I squeezed my eyes shut, dizzy from the sudden movement. I tried to focus on my breathing. It was heavy and ragged. I really needed to get to bed. The alcohol swam around in my head, making me feel like I was on the Trapeze ride from a fair. I gripped the carpet and tried to ground myself. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control. Nausea swept over me and I had to take in a deep breath. Was the voice really real, or was I now just so goddamn wasted that I had started to hallucinate and just ran right into the elevator door?

"I am _so_ sorry, miss. I guess I wasn't paying attention." I didn't look up at whoever it was. I knew what I probably looked like just sitting there in the middle of the floor, wasted and probably dirty as hell. He paused for a second. "Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good." his voice was gentle and concerning. I couldn't respond. It was like my voice was caught in my throat.

Five seconds later a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, hoisting me up to my feet from under my armpits. I groaned, and wobbled weakly against him as my legs gave out underneath me.

"I gotcha." He breathed, his breath hot and humid on my neck. Goosebumps prickled my neck and downy arms. If I wasn't so belligerently drunk I would have already had my mouth on his by now. His arms were suddenly around me again, pulling me upright; steadying me. I could feel his warmth against my body. The heat felt good. It was oddly comforting, and made me want to sleep.

I felt my bag slip heavily from my shoulder, eliciting a deep grunt from the stranger. I should have been in bed by now. It had been six days now since the last time I slept more than twenty minutes. My newly found love of speed caused me to put my pillow in the pawn shop.

"Come on." The man sighed gruffly as he quickly lifted me up into his arms and pressed me against his chest. I made a distressed noise at the sudden movement, my arms instinctively wrapping around his thick neck.

"Let's get you to your room before you pass out on me in the middle of the hallway." He whispered.

I kept my eyes shut, convinced if I opened them again I would surely purge everything in my stomach. The man leaned down and made a strained noise, presumably to grab my bag.

I groaned into his shoulder as another wave of nausea washed over me.

"Please don't puke on me." The guy chuckled nervously. "You're looking pretty green there, sweetheart. What's your room number?"

I mumbled something that even I found to be incoherent and gripped his shoulders tightly, mentally forcing the contents of my stomach to stay down and praying like hell that I wouldn't retch all over the poor guy.

I felt like I was ten feet in the air. Not good. Not good at all. Jesus _fuck_ , how tall was this guy? My head was spinning and throbbing at the temples. It felt tight across my forehead, like it was going to explode. Heights were never a good thing for me. The last thing I remembered before I passed out was the smell of musky man, old books and something faintly metallic.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think (: reviews are always welcome and I accept any and all constructive criticism. This idea has been dancing around in my head for a week and I decided to finally write it.**


	2. Not in Kansas

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Two;**

 **Not in Kansas…**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

My God was I in pain. I stretched my legs across the cool sheets, gripped my head and groaned. 'Please just stop hurting!' I mentally yelled at myself. My head throbbed like I had cracked it open. Bits and pieces of the night before slowly came back to me. The speed, the fifth of whiskey, Xanax and percocets. 'That's what I needed. A percocet; and a bloody mary.' I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the low lighting and slowly recover from the blurry mess of whatever it was I was seeing. Speaking of which... Where the hell was I?

I remembered that long ass drive from Texas to Missouri and having a couple cocktails along the way. I stopped in Arkansas and stocked up on Gatorade, bottled water and jerky. 'What a healthy diet.' I giggled at myself. I could eat whatever I wanted and still stayed the same hundred and ten pounds. I was one of the lucky ones I guess.

I closed my eyes again, my vision still extremely blurry. I massaged my temples and tried to recollect exactly how I got to where I was. I remembered stopping at the local park and finishing my bottle of whiskey. I popped a couple Xanax to help me relax. The speed from earlier had me all jittery and anxious and I needed something to help bring me down.

I silently reminded myself not to mix the two again. The next thing I remembered was seeing the Milton Hotel and the remodeling banner. By then I had to have been completely trashed. I was Impressed with myself that I was coherent enough to actually pay for a room. I snorted lightly through my nose as I remembered the skeevy looking dude at the front desk. 'Pervert.'

Then there was the awkward stumble to the elevator…

'That guy! He picked me up off the floor…"

I shot up from the bed and frantically looked around. I cursed as the blood rushed to my head, causing the pounding pressure in my head to worsen. I panted heavily, suddenly aware that I could be in danger. I searched for any sign of the strange guy. The room was empty as far as I could see. Although the bathroom was out of view. In the room across from me, separated by elegant sliding white doors with gold trim, was a very soft looking white and gold couch adjacent to a black leather love seat in front of a large mounted flat screen TV.

'What the fuck is going on? This some sort of honeymoon suite? I know for damn sure I didn't pay for this room.'

I threw back the divan and lept out of the bed, feeling strangely chilled, and quickly looked around for my duffle bag. It lay on a high backed chair just to the left of the bed, seemingly untouched. I let out a small sigh of relief as I quietly padded over to it. I furrowed my brows when I felt a slight breeze against my legs. Glancing down I noticed that I was in a very large red and blue plaid shirt. No pants. No boots. I felt my chest. No bra. Panties still intact though. Thank goodness.

'What the fuck happened last night?! Did I fuck him? I don't remember having sex.' This was so fucked. So fucking fucked up! I didn't even know what the dude even looked like, let alone how I even got into that bed or in his clothes!

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that only one side of the bed was disturbed, the other half was untouched; still neatly tucked in and pristine.

'So no sex then. Okay, but this is still not right. I don't even know where I am. I'm literally only in my panties and some strange guy's shirt that hangs off me like a dress'

I didn't know what this man's plans were or what he wanted with me and I had this sinking feeling in my gut that I just couldn't ignore. 'Get your gun, girl!' my subconscious screamed.

I carefully unzipped my duffle and pushed aside my undergarments, other bits of clothing and personal hygiene products, searching for my Glock. Just as soon as my fingers hit the cool metal of my gun the door clicked open behind me.

I snatched my gun, cocked it and whirled around pointing it at a very tall man in the doorway. His eyes widened and he held up one hand in submission, the other firmly holding onto a drink carrier with three cups of coffee and a brown paper bag from the diner down the street. The door closed behind him silently.

"Hey, hey, don't shoot! It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." His voice was oddly calm given the fact that I had my gun pointed at his heart.

Adrenaline was surging through my body as I stared him down. I took in slow ragged breaths, gun still firmly aimed at his chest.

"Who are you?!" I yelled at him, my feet firmly planted to the ground. "Where the hell am I?"

"My name is Sam." He said quietly, almost as if he didn't want anyone else to hear him. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He wet his lips and took a tentative step to his right. I followed him with my gun. 'Was this the man from last night? He was certainly tall enough to be.' I took a second to study him, still not fully understanding his intentions. Someone had to have undressed me while I was blacked out and that made me very, very uncomfortable.

He was surprisingly taller than I expected and it threw me for a second. I mean, I was used to being shorter than most everyone given the fact that I was barely 5'1", but he had to be well over six foot at least. He sat the drink carrier and greasy paper bag down on the end table next to the door and raised both hands back up in submission. I watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

His light brown hair laid in soft waves just below his ears, his eyes darkened by the low lit room. They might have been green… or maybe brown? Either way he was incredibly attractive.

I took a deep breath through my nose and blew it out of my mouth forcefully, lowering my gun slowly, but not all the way.

"Alright. So where am I? And who the hell undressed me?" I reiterated, gun still halfway lowered, just in case.

"Well," he drawled, his eyes fixated on me. "You passed out in my arms last night and I couldn't find the room number on your card, so I brought you here."

His hands were still up but he was slowly and cautiously lowering them. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So who undressed me?" I demanded.

A slow, soft blush crept across his cheeks and he glanced down, his left hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. The gesture reminded me of a teenaged boy.

He cleared his throat and flicked his eyes to me, startling me with the sudden eye contact. His eyes looked so… kind.

"I mean," he paused and let out a small groan. "You had… um, puke all over your clothes and I couldn't just let you sleep like that."

'Oh good god! I fucking threw up on myself?' I stared at him, wide eyed, while my face and ears burned with embarrassment. I threw up on myself and a strange good looking man cleaned me up and put me to bed. I couldn't recall ever being so embarrassed in my life.

He coughed nervously and gave me a sheepish smile. "I did my best not to look at you or anything, I swear." He seemed genuinely sincere, and I decided that he wasn't a threat. He had a chance to do anything he wanted with me, and instead he cleaned me up put me in clean clothes and tucked me into bed. Brownie points for Sam.

I averted my gaze from him to the floor and lowered my glock to my side. I had gotten lucky. Any other man that had found me like that would have surely raped me, or killed me, or maybe both. The pervy desk clerk included. I shuddered at that thought.

This was just as surprising as it was confusing. I glanced back up at him and noted that he still hadn't moved from his spot in front of the door.

"So… Sam, huh?" I sighed. "Thank you very much. That was kind of you to take care of me." I grimaced inwardly and suddenly felt guilty for aiming my gun at him. "Sorry about the gun, by the way. Name's Whitney." I let out a small, nervous laugh and was relieved when he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed one of the coffee cups from the table and took a step in my direction. I idly wondered why there were three cups if it was just him and myself.

I watched him tentatively and in return he gave me an award winning, pearly white smile. My legs threatened to buckle beneath me. This man was undeniably beautiful.

"I thought you might like some coffee." he said, gesturing to the cup in his hand with his chin. "For your hangover." He glanced behind him and then back at me, still smiling. "There's burgers in the bag as well, if you're hungry."

I gave him a half-hearted smile, and let my gun fall to my side. My head was still pounding and coffee sounded absolutelydivine right about now. The burgers on the other hand… didn't sound so great.

Sam stayed firmly in place by the door, so I took the initiative to step forward and carefully lift the paper cup from his hand. I couldn't help myself but I wanted to get a better look at him while I was close. I had to refrain myself from letting my mouth hang open. He let out a small chuckle as he let go of the hot cup of salvation. "That's what I thought," He laughed.

I couldn't help but to return his smile as I stood in front of him, holding the coffee, my head tilted upwards to meet his gaze. I guess he was alright in my book. For now, at least. I was impressed with him. He had a chance to do whatever he wanted with me, but instead chose to be kind and look after me while I was blacked out.

A door opened from the opposite side of the room and a deep voice rang out. "Hey, Sammy!" I nearly dropped the cup in my hand, startled by the sudden interruption.

"What?!" Sam replied, glancing in the direction of the bathroom.

'Well who the hell is that?'

I took a careful sip of my coffee, still suspicious of the strange voice, but I quickly forgot about it as I reveled in the taste of the coffee. It was delicious. This was exactly what I needed. Well, what I actually needed was my morning pain pills, Adderall and a joint, but seeing as I was currently indisposed, I guessed I'd have to wait. So instead I closed my eyes and took another drink. 'Thank God for coffee.' I praised silently.

"I need a towel man, I forgot to grab one!" The strange voice was deep and extremely masculine.

'Who else was in here with us?'

"Alright." Sam replied, sounding somewhat defeated. He gave me another small smile before taking a step in the direction of the bathroom. "I think it's safe to put your gun down. We won't hurt you, I promise. It's just me and my brother Dean here."

I swallowed an anxious knot in my throat and nodded. I glanced back at my bag as Sam made his way to the other side of the room, closing the double doors behind him. Once the doors were closed I carefully placed my gun down on the bed, for easy access, and dug around in my duffle for the pill bottle I kept my Adderall and Percocet in. I popped two of each in my mouth and washed them down with the hot heavenly liquid. I closed my eyes and sighed. I needed to get dressed. Smiling to myself, I glanced down at the shirt I was wearing. Sam's shirt, I guessed. It made for a good dress, but plaid really wasn't my style.


	3. My what now?

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Three;**

 **My What Now?**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

I yanked on my jeans and buttoned them just in time for the dividing doors to open. I glanced over my shoulder to see who I assumed was Sam's brother Dean. He had a hard jaw line, striking green eyes and an arrogant smirk on his sculpted lips. 'Damn.'

First thing he did when he saw me was let out a long, low whistle. "You look better conscious there, honey." He flashed me a beautiful smile and strode towards me with confidence in his step. He was naked from the waist up, his jeans riding low on his hips, perfectly showcasing his hip bones and toned stomach. His tanned skin was still moist from the shower and his hair was damp and sticking up wildly. I wondered if that's how his hair would look after a good fuck.

'You're so used to being wanted, aren't you?'

I returned Dean's smile and tossed my Auburn hair back over my shoulder. 'You're not the only one who can play this game, darling.' I made sure to bend down to finish lacing my boots, giving him a very nice view of my cleavage. He cocked his eyebrow at me and tilted his head slightly to the left.

'That's right, get a good look, baby. You're all the same.'

"Yeah, I know." I quipped, eliciting a small laugh from Sam who tried to cover it with a cough. Dean was either too busy staring at my breasts to hear Sam snicker, or he didn't care for the same reason.

I tied the last knot and pulled down the leg of my jeans. I straightened up, and smoothed out my shirt over my flat stomach, making sure to linger on my hips just a few more seconds longer, knowing Dean was watching helplessly. This boy was so easy to read it was almost comical. Sex was definitely a top priority for him, and that was alright with me, I spent the last couple months fucking any man I wanted, to help pass the time and silence my head. That and Adderall made me exceptionally horny.

'Keep eyeing me like that, Dean, because I'm going to ride you like a horse at some point in the near future.'

I grabbed my Glock and slid it into the back of my jeans, then pulled a Beatles tee shirt over my tank top to help hide the bulge of the gun. I was a thinly framed girl and it wasn't easy to hide a gun on my person.

Dean and Sam were sat together at the small dining table behind the couches in the living room. My medicine had begun to kick in and I didn't want to spend my buzz sitting around with them and listening to them argue over some 'case', whatever the hell that meant, and watching Dr. Sexy M.D. "I'm texting Cass." Sam said as he stood up from the table. Dean shook his head and took a long draw from his beer. "Whatever, man." He said, sounding defeated.

I grabbed my duffle bag and slung it across my shoulder. I had my blade back in my left boot, my gun in the small of my back and my wallet in my bag. As far as I knew I had everything that I owned all together. I needed to go unpack in my room and roll a joint. I idly wondered what I would have for lunch as I made my way over to the door.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Sam questioned from across the room. He sounded slightly disappointed. I paused and turned toward him. "I don't have my phone on me, and I need to get my things put away in my room."

Sam pocketed his cell phone and flexed his jaw. "So-so do you need any help carrying anything?" he stammered. I smiled at his nervousness. I let out a small giggle and shrugged. "Only if you feel like carrying my shit for me."

Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, nodding twice. "Um, yeah." His face was flushed red again.

"Well damn, Sammy," Dean chuckled. "Why don't you just tell her you want to sleep with her. It'd be less awkward."

I pressed my lips together to stop from smiling so hard. 'Ah, brotherly love.' I sighed and gestured to the door with my hand. "Let's go then."

Sam shot a hateful look in Dean's direction before following me out of the door.

"Good lord, is this your car?" Sam gasped as he ran his hand along the hood of my baby.

"Yep. Sixty Seven Shelby Fastback," I explained. "It was a present from my daddy."

I opened the trunk and reached for my suitcase. My car was my most prized possession. A gift from my father for my sixteenth birthday. I named him Stranger. He was Charcoal grey with metal flake, specially equipped with black leather bucket seats and fog lights. My dad also took the initiative to custom make a black chrome grill guard for him. I didn't protest because it made it look pretty badass.

"Wow, Dean would love your car." He remarked, coming around the passenger side to take my suitcase and other black duffle bag from me. He glanced into my trunk as I slammed it shut. He gave me a confused look, his brows knitted together, his hazel eyes locked onto me with a sudden interest.

I set my jaw and held his gaze. "What?" I asked.

"Can I ask you something?" He said quietly, dropping my black bag down from his shoulder and stepping up closer to me. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest.

"As long as you don't ask about what I have in my trunk, then I guess." I might or might not have a collection of weapons in my trunk that would make the police uncomfortable.

"What's with the anti-possession tattoo on your ribs?" he didn't break eye contact. 'Well that was a surprise.'

"My what, now?" I looked down and lifted up my shirt and tank to expose the small tattoo on my left side under my breast. "You mean this thing?" it was a tribal-looking tattoo resembling the outline of the sun with a pentagram in the center. I put my shirt back in place and looked back up at him.

"You mean you don't know what that is?" He asked, in almost what sounded like disbelief. I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"It's just a tattoo. It doesn't mean anything." I argued.

"Why'd you get that one in particular, though?" He pushed.

"My dad convinced me to get it," I blurted. "What's it to you, anyway?" I snapped at him. I didn't like talking about my father and it felt like Sam was stepping over a line. He barely knew me.

"But why would he-" I lifted up my hand, cutting him off. "Listen, Sam, I think you're cute an all, and I appreciate what you did for me, but I am not going to talk about this with you. Got me? So just stand there and look beautiful and help, if that's what you actually want."

He closed his mouth firmly and nodded once, looking sort of shocked. "Yeah." He sort of barked out. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry or make you uncomfortable."

I sighed and grabbed my duffle bag from where he dropped it and stepped around him. 'Why the hell did he want to know about my tattoo so badly?'

Then I realized that the only reason he even knew about it was because he had undressed me. My Dad and I got matching tattoos when I was seventeen, but I didn't question him on why he chose the particular design we were getting. I got mine in a place where it would be hidden most of the time, given the fact it had a pentagram in it and most people associated that with devil-worship.

'What was so interesting about my tattoo, Sam? And why would I know what it was? Did it actually mean something? Please tell me this kid wasn't a Satan enthusiast.'

I checked my phone and found six different texts from my regular guys wanting to get a drink together, or a bite to eat or whatever lame excuse they could come up with to cover the fact that they wanted to fuck me.

Although this time I didn't return any of them. I already had two different options down the hall from me in the hotel. And they were both sexy as hell. My plate was full, and all I had to do was pick up my fork.

Okay so we all know what's going to happen next (;


	4. What's A Nephilim?

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Four;**

 **What's a Nephilim?**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

unlocked my door and pushed it open, reveling in the fact that my room smelled like Downy fabric softener and Pine Sol. I took a deep breath and groaned. Oh, how I loved the smell of clean. It was almost intoxicating.

I opened my duffle bag and pulled my Sig Sauer from the bottom and sat it next to the bed on the table and then reached for my Glock in the back of my jeans. This one I usually kept under my pillow. The .22 would stay in my bedside drawer. It was black and chrome carbon fiber so it would glint in the dark and I didn't like my weapons to be easily spotted.

So I slid the Glock under my pillow and then I tossed myself onto the King sized bed. Sam chuckled at my flamboyant display and closed the door behind him.

I lifted my head up from the bed to look at him. "You laughing at me?" I teased, grinning.

He shook his head, and carefully put my suitcase down on top of the empty desk. He turned and leaned against it, supporting his weight with his arms, and crossed his ankles. I let my head fall back onto the bed and rubbed my arms across the comforter like I was making a snow angel. It was so damn comfortable.

I really wanted to roll a joint, but all of my shit was in my suitcase directly behind Sam. Somehow I knew he probably wouldn't be okay with my drug use. Hardly anyone ever was. I had a pretty good buzz already from the pills but I would have to eat something before I could take anything else. And to even have an appetite to eat anything I would have to smoke. So I guess I would have to settle for something else instead.

I sat up on the bed and patted the seat beside me. "You know you can actually take a seat. You don't have to stand." I gave him my best reassuring smile. Sam rubbed the back of his neck, carefully taking two steps forward.

I let out a deep breath and stood up. 'This was gonna be harder than I thought.'

"So, I need to take a shower. If you, maybe, wanna hang around?" I spoke cautiously, he looked like a virgin about to have sex for the first time.

Sam barked out a nervous laugh and sat down on the bed. "Should I watch TV while I wait?" He joked.

"Do whatever you want. If it makes you comfortable." I said, absentmindedly, unzipping my suitcase and pulling a bag from the top compartment. I gathered a pair of shorts and a tank top to change into once I was squeaky clean. Fuck a matching bra and panty set, they would only get in the way, and possibly dirty. Best to just wait until after the clean up to put them on. I sat the top back down and turned to look at Sam.

He was relaxed on the bed, legs outstretched before him, back against the headboard. It was a really nice bed, to be honest. Black wooden frame with intricate foot and headboard. Nice little notched sections along the middle seemed like a good place to use handcuffs.

The king sized bed made Sam look almost normal sized and It made me smile. He looked comfortable enough, the large flat screen suspended in middle of the opposite wall now showing some sort of documentary that sounded as boring as it looked, but whatever.

I held my clothes on top of the bag in my hand and nodded to Sam as I made my way to the bathroom, grabbing my bag of toiletries from the table along the way. I shut and locked the door, sitting my black bag down on the closed toilet seat. I put my bag of shampoo and conditioner in the shower and turned it on.

While that was warming up I put my shorts and shirt on the back of the toilet and took a deep breath. I turned on the bathroom fan and opened my bag. It had various drugs in a couple different forms in it, separated by small zipper pouches. I had two clean points in the bag, along with cellophane and a lid to a water bottle. All drug paraphernalia, really. I unzipped one of the pouches and pulled out a one-hitter, and small round container that unscrewed. I got it somewhere along my way from Texas. It used to have mints in it. Now it held weed. I packed it tight and hit it four times before finally getting undressed. I sprayed some air freshener and hoped to god Sam wouldn't smell it in the other room.

It felt so good to have the hot water run across my back and soak into my hair. There was nothing quite like getting clean after being dirty. Suddenly you were so clean and soft and it was like your nose was clearer. The best part about staying in motels, nice ones at least, was after you got clean you could lay down on the bed and smell the laundry detergent on the clean linens. There was a reason cleanliness was close to godliness.

Everything was clean and nicely shaved. I smelled good, I knew I did. I pulled the small vial of almond extract out of my shower bag and rubbed some behind the back of my ears and neck. It made me smell like I had been baking cookies all day, and lasted longer than any perfume I had ever bought. It smelled like cookies and vanilla and honestly, it seemed to attract men better as well.

Once I was dressed I opened the bathroom door and gathered my things. I tucked my paraphernalia bag into the shower bag and placed it back into my suitcase. I dropped my dirty clothes into the closet, mentally making a note to have the maid do my laundry.

"So… I'm assuming you didn't come up here to help me put away my panties." I said flatly, catching Sam's attention. "Unless that's exactly why you're here." I glanced at where he was sitting and bit my lip. He hadn't moved an inch while I was showering. Though apparently I was just in time to see his face grow hot with embarrassment. He wetted his lips and opened his mouth and closed it twice before speaking.

"I-I don't… I mean, I don't want you to think-"

"Sam, seriously. Did you really think I would need you to help me carry two bags if I didn't want to be alone with you? You don't have to be so romantic with me. We're both adults. If you wanna fuck, then just say so."

Sam's mouth hung open as he stared at me. I made my way to the bed and crawled toward him. I raised my eyebrows and smiled. He stood up suddenly and pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor.

"That's my boy," I winked at him, slowly easing myself to the center of the bed. I watched him undress himself until he was left in his white shirt and jeans. There was something magical about a man when he knew he was going to get laid, whether they were the romantic type or not. Suddenly all pieces of clothing weighed a hundred pounds. Sam put a large hand between my breasts and pushed me down, leaning forward to press his lips to mine softly.

I closed my eyes and moaned into his mouth, letting his tongue slip against mine. I reached up and buried my fingers into his hair, my heart pounding against my chest, the noise loud and rushing in my ears. He was one of the more handsome men I'd ever met, and I was a little nervous. I did this way too often with too many men to be nervous, and yet here I was feeling like a teenager about to have sex for the first time.

Sam pressed the length of his body against me and sighed into my mouth as I lifted my hips up to grind against his. He was already hard. I gripped a handful of his hair at the back of his head and kissed him fervently, biting his lower lip. He laughed against my mouth as I fumbled with his belt buckle in my left hand. I couldn't help but to smile in return.

He broke the kiss with a soft, wet noise and sat back on his heels. I adjusted myself underneath him and bit my lower lip in anticipation as he pulled off his belt with one fluid movement. He lifted his white shirt up over his head with both arms, and I almost moaned out loud watching his muscles flex. He was like a Greek God, chiseled and sculpted in all the right places. So deliciously hard and yet soft at the same time.

He threw his shirt somewhere behind him and smiled down at me, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, dimples adorning his cheeks, and it made my heart ache for a moment, though I wasn't exactly sure why.

Sam reached down and grabbed my hips, squeezing me briefly before rubbing his hands up my body and underneath my shirt, his hot fingers sliding up my bare skin to my breasts. I sighed in pleasure and watched his expressions change as he touched me. He was so focused; touching and probing me, fingers deftly pinching my nipples and swirling them around with practiced movements. He pushed my shirt up and I lifted my arms so he could pull it off, leaving me in just my pair of shorts.

This made Sam smile again. "You knew we were going to do this?" He whispered, sounding mock offended.

"Now, Sam, don't tell me you're too sensitive to have a one night stand."

He laughed loudly before he leaned down to kiss me again, his fingers sliding under the seam of my shorts to move them past my hips and down my thighs. I lifted my pelvis up to help him ease them down my my slender legs.

"You're so beautiful." He sighed, his lips moving to my neck, now. I tilted my head to the side and slid my hands across the muscles rippling in his shoulders as he moved above me. They were so firm and hard and I was so impatient. I was aching for him to touch me.

His hot tongue slid across my throat, breath humid and sweet. I closed my eyes as his large hand spread across my lower belly, fingers splayed wide against my pale skin, and then he slid his hand down and I gasped as his long fingers slipped into my slickness and started to rub circles over my clit. I cried out in pleasure and arched against him. I could feel his smirk against my neck as his touch became firmer. He definitely knew what to do.

I had to grip the sheets under me to stop myself from digging my nails into his back. My head swam with ecstasy. I gasped as two of his fingers slid inside of me. He was moving so expertly that he left me gasping for breath, my hips trying to ride the movement of his hand. I could feel his cock through his jeans pressing against my leg. He still had his pants on and I was naked, practically falling apart underneath his touch. I needed more of him.

"Sam," I moaned breathlessly against his ear. "Please."

He made a grunting noise and he kissed the side of my face, reluctantly leaving me breathless and waiting as he undid the button on his jeans. I lay underneath his body, helplessly watching him pull down his jeans to mid thigh, his black boxer briefs looked like they were strangling him, his cock looking painfully trapped behind the tight material.

Sam groaned in the back of his throat as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and pulled down, freeing his length.

I barely had time to take in how large he was before his mouth was assaulting mine again, his pelvis pressed against me. It was such an amazing feeling, the hard, hot flesh of his cock pressed tightly against the junction of my thighs. He bucked his hips gently against me, eliciting a loud moan which he eagerly swallowed as he kissed me again. His left hand held the side of my face as he broke the kiss, leaving me breathless once more. His thumb gently traced my lower lip, his eyes dark, mouth slightly ajar as he watched me. I knew that look. Like a predator before a kill.

His thumb slipped into my mouth and I instinctively started to suck it. My tongue swirled around the tip, and I could feel his cock twitch against me, his hips gently rocked against me as I massaged his thumb with my tongue.

"Alright," he growled out, pulling his thumb free and glancing downward.

'Finally.'

He pressed his thumb against my clit and started to rub in circles again. I could feel the hot wet tip of his member probe my tender flesh.

"Jesus," he gasped before he started to sink into my wet flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut and growled out as he seated himself inside me.

We were both sort of gasping for breath, I had my hands on his shoulders, nails still partially digging into his muscles. His eyes met mine and he smiled before kissing me. This was definitely not the way I was used to a man having sex with me, but he definitely knew what he was doing, I had to give him that.

"Sam?" A deep, gravelly voice called out from somewhere in front of the bed.

I screamed at the strange voice suddenly in the room, and as Sam grabbed me up in his hands, I reached under my pillow and gripped my Glock. Sam sat up, holding me to his chest and I reached over his shoulder and fired twice into the stranger's chest.

A tall man in a tan trenchcoat stood about eight feet away from the bed and was staring down at his chest, head tilted to the side, and looking utterly and completely confused. He had on a dark suit with a white Oxford and blue tie.

"Who the fuck is that?!" I screamed. I still had my gun pointed at his chest. He wasn't bleeding. He wasn't on his fucking back like he should have been. He was just standing there! Like I had shot him with a goddamn nerf gun.

The man looked up at me, making deliberate eye contact. His eyes were the perfect shade of cerulean blue. I was already gasping for air but the look he was giving me with those baby blues was enough to steal my breath away. 'Who the fuck…'

"Cass, seriously, we've been through this. You have to knock first."

'What the fuck is going on right now? I shot that man twice, and all Sam has to say is to knock before coming into a room. Was I crazy? I had to be fucking crazy. I am too high for this shit.'

"I am sorry, Sam, but Dean needs your assistance. I was told to come get you."

"Dude!" Sam yelled, and I flinched. He was usually so soft spoken and I wasn't sure if I felt comfortable listening to him raise his voice. "Cass, leave, seriously. Do you not understand that I'm busy?"

"My apologies. I will tell Dean you are busy."

And then he was gone. Vanished. Into thin motherfucking air. It was like I was in some fucking punked episode and nobody asked me to sign a waiver. Fucking just gone. I seriously had to lay off the drugs.

Within seconds of finishing there was a knock on the door. A hard knock. Like something the police would do. Sam caught my attention and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I'm really sorry, uh… you know you never told me your name."

I chuckled as I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans. "It's Whitney. Most of my friends just call me Red, though."

He made a noncommittal gesture with his head. "Was it the hair?"

I smiled and pulled a shirt over my head. "Yep, unfortunately. You'd think they could have been a little more clever, but no."

Someone knocked on the door again, more aggressively this time. "C'mon Sam! Finish up!"

Dean's voice rang clearly through the door. The ass.

"So… you're telling me that this man," I gestured to Castiel. "Is a fucking Angel?"

Sam and Dean both nodded at me.

"Glad you're still on the same page with us, sweetheart." Dean said sarcastically. I had to physically restrain myself from throwing something at his smug little face.

"Shut up," I quipped, with just as much sarcasm. "I don't need your mouth. You're lucky I haven't shot you as well."

"It didn't hurt, by the way," Castiel interjected, his voice unusually soothing and yet sort of grating at the same time. Like sandpaper and silk. I shot him a look and shook my head. "Don't speak right now. Okay? I'm literally just trying to get over the fact that you're a 'so-called Angel and I don't need any more confusion. You should have died. I shot you twice in the fucking heart."

"He's an Angel, he can't die unless he's smited by another Angel or stabbed with an Angel blade." Sam interrupted me and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

I sighed and out my face in my hands. 'What the fuck did I get myself into now? Angels? Demons? Was any of this seriously real right now, or was I having a bad trip from the lack of sleep and food and anything that wasn't a drug or alcoholic drink.'

"And he says I'm a what now?" I sighed, exasperated.

"A Nephilim, apparently." Dean supplied.

All I could think of was how my life was going to be over in a week or so, going day to day high and just generally fucked up, and now I was a fucking Nephilim, which I didn't know what the hell that even was, according to an Angel of the Lord. I should have offed myself long ago.


	5. Hunters

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Five;**

 **Hunters**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

Okay. You know what?" I stood up and shoved my hands into my jeans pockets. "I think it's best you all leave now. Like, seriously. Go." I stressed the last word, hoping that they got the point. I took a step back, pressed my lips into a firm line and turned away. I had to unpack my shit and go get something to eat and I didn't have time for whatever the hell kind of game they were trying to play.

I'll admit, the whole Angel thing almost had me going there for a second, but he could have just as easily had a bulletproof vest underneath his clothes. The whole vanish thing still had me a little puzzled, but there were magicians out there who did that shit all the time, right? The only thing I couldn't get my head wrapped around was why the hell were they trying to pull me into it? What was in it for them?

"Wait, what?!" Dean shouted, standing up so quickly the chair made a loud screech against the hardwood floor. "This isn't a game. Monsters are real, and you're going to find that out sooner or later and, baby, you want us to be there when you do." he sounded so smug.

I smiled over my shoulder at Dean as I made my way to the nightstand. I opened the drawer, picked up my Sig Sauer and held it firmly. I sat down on the end of the bed and rested my gun in my lap. "Leave. Or I will shoot you. I'm not kidding." I gave them all pointed looks and gestured to the door with my firearm.

"Go on. You heard me."

Sam raised his eyebrows and gave me a questioning look. "Whitney, it's the truth. Why don't you believe us?"

"Seriously? You really expect me to believe that monsters are real… that vampires are real. You sound like a book with a terrible plot." I laughed and shook my head. "I don't know why you're trying to play this game with me, but I'm done. I don't want to hear any more bullshit stories from you three, and I want you to leave."

Dean took in a sharp breath and stood his ground, pursing his lips angrily. Castiel and Sam and Castiel stayed seated, although the Angel looked wary. I jumped up quickly and pulled the slide to the gun, chambering a round. Sam and Castiel stood up simultaneously.

"Don't do this," Castiel murmured, his voice gruff and monotonous.

"Do you think I'm joking?" I laughed at him in disbelief. I turned to Sam. "Why are you even still here? You got what you wanted, didn't you Sam? What purpose does it serve for you to tell me all of this shit?" His mouth hung open, obviously at a loss for words. "Wait. You're not a couple of psychos trying to kidnap me and sell me into the sex trade are you?"

Dean suppressed a smile and exchanged glances with Sam. Sam looked pained. I observed their little interaction and it made my stomach drop. Sam pulled down the collar of his shirt, followed by Dean, both brothers revealing the exact same tattoo I had on their chests.

It was like all of the breath forcefully left my lungs all at once. I raised my eyebrows in surprise and just stared at them, slack-jawed. How in the hell could they have the exact same tattoo? It wasn't like it was a popular design or anything. The tattoo artist even remarked on how he had never seen a design like it before. The only people I knew of who had it were my mother, father and myself. I thought it was a family tradition. I took a slow steadying breath and shook my head.

"Is this some kind of trick or something? Why- what... how do you even-" I stopped myself mid sentence and bit my lip, letting a forceful breath out through my nose. I couldn't even find the words to express the deep discomfort I felt.

"It's called an Anti-possession charm. It protects you from being possessed by a demon." Sam explained, his voice low and smooth. "You said your dad has one just like it, right?"

But why would my dad get a tattoo to prevent himself from being possessed? Possession. Was that even a thing anymore?

"Yeah…" I said hesitantly. "But what does that have to do with anything?" I didn't really understand where they were going with this. I suddenly felt very exposed with three strange men in my room.

Dean shrugged and then smirked at me. "What does your Dad do for work?" Suddenly his sarcasm wasn't so cute anymore.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why?"

"Maybe he's a Hunter. You know, killing the monsters you're so sure don't exist." He gave me a wry smile before taking a swig of his beer.

I swallowed nervously and chewed my lip. Was Dad a hunter? "He travelled a lot for work, but-"

"See?" Dean interrupted. "He's gone for days at a time… Keeps a lot of guns and weapons… or maybe a bunch of salt in the house." Dean had a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.

I dropped the gun onto the bed and squeezed my eyes shut. I had to make sense of this. Dad traveled for work all the time, and yeah he had a lot of weapons, but he was a Marine for God's sake. Salt on the other hand… it was so strange that Dean would mention salt… Dad always kept giant bags of rock salt in the garage all year round. I just figured it was in preparation for winter. I could feel the lump of emotion swelling in my throat. I clenched my jaw shut and tried to swallow it down. 'Don't you dare cry.'

"Where is your Dad now?" Castiel asked softly. My mouth fell open with a soft click and I just looked at him. I knew he could probably see it written on my face plain as day. My gut wrenched, my chest felt tight and heavy and I felt as though I were going to throw up. Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I felt my lower lip start to tremble.

"Oh, no." He sighed as his face visibly fell. "I am very sorry for your loss, Whitney." he sounded so solemn for an Angel. If, indeed, he was one.

Sam let out a breath and walked towards me, gripping my hand and pulling me into a tight embrace. He held the back of my head to his chest and I broke down.

"Shh, it's okay." He squeezed me and kissed the top of my head. "I've got you."

"Damn," Dean sighed, sounding defeated.

I sobbed into Sam's chest, hands gripping a handful of his shirt, and he just held me, gently stroking my hair as I wept. Here I was, crying in the arms of a man I barely knew, with two other strangers in the room. I suddenly felt really shitty about the way I spoke to him. He was really a sweet guy.

My Dad died a little over a month ago, some freak accident while he was away on business that left him with his throat torn out and all blood drained from his body. What I didn't know was that he had a life insurance policy worth a couple million dollars. Stocks, property, cars, all things I knew nothing about until his death... suddenly left to me. Imagine my surprise when I unexpectedly became a millionaire overnight. All thanks to my Dad passing away. As morbid as that sounds.

The attorney also handed me a heavy manilla envelope from my father and said he was instructed to give it to me upon his passing. It had 'Whitney' scrawled on the front in my Dad's lazy, chicken-scratch handwriting. Only… I hadn't worked up enough courage to open it just yet. Maybe I was terrified of what it contained. Or maybe I didn't want to come to terms with my Dad's death. If I opened that envelope it would truly be the end. He would really be gone and I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I mean, I obviously wasn't doing a good job handling it now, what with all the drowning myself in booze, drugs and dick. But I didn't want it to be over. Not yet. I wanted to hold onto the last piece of my Dad's memory a bit longer.

When I ran out of tears to cry Sam still held me. I trembled against him. I felt so fragile and exposed. Thankfully Dean had excused himself to tend to 'Baby', whoever that was, and I felt a little more relaxed after his departure. I sat on the edge of the bed with Sam to my right, his arm firmly around my shoulders as I leaned against him. Castiel stood in the middle of the room. He was gazing up, a quizzical look plastered on his face. Eyebrows knitted together, head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed. It almost looked like he was suspicious of the ceiling.

Either way he was… odd. It was almost like he was detached from emotion, and yet strangely expressive. Definitely had a stick up his ass, but he seemed sweet. I watched him as he stood there and I couldn't help but noticing the way his eyes were so blue they almost looked like they were glowing.

Castiel shifted his gaze and met mine directly. The same weird feeling I felt when I first saw him repeated itself. His eyes were so… intense and bright, and yet… somehow vaguely familiar. I knew those eyes from somewhere. I could have sworn I did, but I just couldn't place it. They were iridescent and yet shockingly pale. I had never seen eyes look quite the way his did, and I was completely puzzled. It almost… almost looked like the color was alive. And then it struck me: sunlight. It was like a beam of warm light that was distorted through a sheet of ice causing the cerulean pigments to reflect like a mirror. His dark eyelashes gave him a sultry look that had my stomach tied up in knots.

I felt a strange sensation blossom in my chest and back. I let out a strangled cry as it intensified and I gripped Sam's leg. He turned his head sharply at me and Castiel cocked his head to the side but maintained eye contact. The left corner of his mouth tilted down.

It felt like thousands of white-hot needles all over my upper body. It reminded me of when my foot falls asleep and it's numb and sort of painful. Only this time it was a hundred times worse. I gasped for breath and jerked forward, clutching at my shirt. It felt like some invisible force was trying to push it's way out of my chest. A sharp pain shot through my chest and up my neck, causing me to double over in pain.

"What's wrong?" Castiel's gravelly monotone sounded loudly in my ears. That didn't make any sense though, he was across the room from me and it sounded like he spoke right into my ear.

"Whitney, what's wrong?" Sam questioned, his tone urgent and worried. He grabbed my shoulder and leaned forward to peer at me.

"I-I… I don't know." I groaned. My breaths growing increasingly labored with each shuddering draw of air. Every breath I drew in was more agonizing than the last. I gripped my sides, trying to somehow appease the pain in my lungs, panting harsh and ragged. All I was getting was short, punctuated, excruciating gasps of air. I couldn't fill my lungs, no matter what I tried I justcouldn't breathe.

"Cass…" Sam called cautiously, slightly alarmed. "Cass, I don't think she can breathe."

My sight started to get a little blurry, the edges fading away to black. I could see small white dots racing across my field of vision and I started to feel light headed. A wave of nausea swept over me and I had to close my eyes. I could feel myself losing consciousness, and for a second a jolt of fear ran down my spine. Was I afraid to die?

I collapsed against the floor and my vision blacked out completely. I felt my body start to convulse but I couldn't stop it. I was too numb.

"Whitney! Hold on, please!" Sam's voice was high and distraught. "Cass!"

It would be really easy to tell you that I died right there on the floor. But that would be largely untrue. I stood over my body and watched as Castiel surged forward and held me down, pressing my head to the side as my body shook violently underneath him. My eyes were rolled back into my head and my mouth was gushing red foam. I felt nothing.

Sam stood up and frantically pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He pressed it to his ear and paced quickly, back and forth, his left hand buried in his hair at the nape of his neck. He was shaking uncontrollably and he struggled to keep hold of the phone.

"Dean!" He shouted into the receiver. "Dean, there's something wrong with Whitney, she's having a seizure…" he gasped and a strangled cry escaped his throat. "There's blood just pouring from her mouth…" his chest heaved and he turned around to face away from my body.

Castiel pinned my left arm under his knee and leaned forward to grasp my right arm, bringing it to my side and holding it in place, all the while making sure my head stayed flat against the floor. He, too, was trembling as he tried to control my spasming body.

Sam let his hand fall from his ear and placed his phone back into his pocket. He put both hands behind his head and took a shuddering breath.

"Sam, I need you to hold her still so I can heal her." Castiel ground out, voice low and grave.

Sam pivoted on his heel quickly and knelt down beside me. My body jerked and thrashed against him as he pushed me to the floor and held my head to the side.

"Cass, hurry up!" Sam bellowed, his hands were slick with blood.

Castiel knelt over my body and held his hand out flat over my chest. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. A bright blue fluorescent light emitted from his palm and lit up my torso.

A few seconds passed and nothing happened.

Castiel withdrew his hand and looked at Sam, his brows were drawn together and he looked confused and a brief flicker of fear crossed his features.

"It didn't work." Castiel said thickly, glancing around as if he were disoriented.

"What? What do you mean it didn't work?!" Sam looked hysterical. "Cass, you're an Angel! You're supposed to save her!"

Castiel visibly winced at Sam's words, his face clouded with grief and disappointment.

Dean burst through the door and ran to Sam's side. "Hey, I have an ambulance already on the way." He was out of breath and panting heavily. Dean grimaced as he looked at me lying there, blood pooling around my face, eyes blank, body thrashing wildly. Then I was still.

"No," Sam growled out through clenched teeth. "No!" He grabbed me and started tapping my face. "Wake up, come on. Wake up!" he brushed some of my bright Auburn hair from my face and leaned forward, ear close to my mouth. He jerked back up right and started chest compressions. "Come on, stay with me!" he leaned down and fitted his mouth to mine, giving me two big breaths, my chest rising with each one.

Dean and Castiel shared worried glances as they knelt beside Sam as he performed CPR.

The last thing I remembered was Sam yelling my name again before everything went dark.


	6. Time For Rehab Again

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Six;**

 **Time For Rehab. Again.**

* * *

 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

* * *

When I came to I was in a hospital bed. What the fuck happened? I sighed inwardly. Great. I knew what this meant, I went through it as a teenanger. I couldn't remember what happened to even land me here. The last thing I remembered was leaning against Sam on the end of the bed in the hotel room, then… nothing.

"She should be waking up soon." A disembodied female voice carried throughout the room but I couldn't see who it belonged to. A nurse most likely.

"Is she going to be okay?" Sam sounded distressed.

"Yeah, we believe so. We haven't yet determined the cause of the seizure, but there's no brain damage, so that's a good thing."

"Good," Dean's rough voice barked out.

"Although," the nurse continued. "You should know that we found multiple drugs in her system and her liver enzymes are extremely high for someone her age. The doctor is recommending you send her to a rehabilitation center."

"What?"

"What?!"

Sam and Dean's voice echoed each other and I grimaced. Good lord here we go… I grit my teeth together and braced myself for yet another 'talk'.

"What kind of drugs exactly?" Dean growled.

"Uhh," I could hear her shuffling papers around.

"Looks like her tox screen tested positive for Opiates, Benzodiazepines, Amphetamine as well as Methamphetamine, THC, MDMA, Cocaine and Buprenorphine."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Dean bellowed. "Is there anything she didn't test positive for?!"

"Dean," there was a warning in Sam's voice.

I lifted my left arm up and then sucked in a sharp breath as a stabbing jolt of pain ran from my wrist up into my elbow. My left wrist was encased in a deep purple cast. Well when the fuck did that happen?

"The doctor has made an exception for pain medication while she is here due to her condition. Once she wakes up I can give her some morphine and we'll see how that does and go from there."

"Morphine?" Dean said, venom dripping in his voice. "You're going to give her morphine for a fractured wrist?"

"Well, not just her wrist, Sir. She has metal pins and screws holding her spine together as well as the metal hip joint. Dr. Stein called her family doctor in Austin and confirmed that she does have a prescription for Dilaudid and Percocet. If it's alright with you two we plan on keeping her another night for observation just to make sure she doesn't have another seizure. Unless you decide to send her to the rehabilitation center."

"No, that won't be necessary." Castiel's gruff voice echoed. "I won't let her leave my sight."

"And you are?" The nurse asked.

"Her husband."

My stomach lurched and twisted into a knot. Embarrassment burned hotly against my neck and ears. It's been two days since I met these men and I'd slept with one, threatened to shoot the other multiple times and the one I did actually shoot was now listening to the nurse clamber on about my medical history and claiming to be my husband. I scoffed. If only he knew how much that hurt.

"Very well, Mr. Welch. When we discharge your wife we plan on sending her home with a new prescription of her regular pain medication. We need you to sign a waiver stating you'll administer her medication for her."

"Okay."

"Alright, well, I'm going to go speak to the doctor. If she wakes up you should call the nurse's station and we'll get her something for the pain. Good night gentlemen."

I sighed in relief when I heard her footsteps recede out into the hall.

"Okay," Dean huffed. "Let's see if sleeping beauty is awake yet." he sounded angry.

Here we go.

Dean pushed back the curtain roughly and smiled at me. "Well good morning gorgeous. How'd you sleep?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine."

He sat down in the seat next to the bed to my left and let his face go blank. "So we have a lot to talk about." He said point blank.

I pressed my lips together and stared at him. "Do we?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah. We do."

"Dean, be nice." Sam sighed as he walked around the corner of the bed followed by Castiel. I beamed at the Angel when he made eye contact with me.

"Hello love," I cooed at him, grinning.

Castiel's eyes darted to Sam and then Dean before he pressed his lips together slightly and nodded at me. "You heard me, didn't you?" his face flushed under my gaze and he looked around nervously.

"Yeah, I did. Funny, I don't remember our Wedding day… or night for that matter." I winked at him and his neck reddened further.

This made Dean chuckle. I glanced at him and he dropped the expression and went back to looking pissed. "Don't think just because you made me laugh that you're off the hook."

I snorted and furrowed my brows. "What hook? You don't own me."

He shifted forward in his seat and stared at me. I could practically feel the rage rolling off of him. It both terrified and confused me.

"Are you serious?" He snarled. "What are you trying to do, kill yourself?!" he shouted, a vein bulging at his neck.

"Yeah, maybe! What's it to you?!" I shouted back.

His mouth dropped open and he stared at me in disbelief. I glanced at Sam and Castiel and Sam mirrored Dean's reaction, only he seemed more disappointed than angry. Castiel had his eyes fixed on the floor at his feet and wasn't moving.

"Please… tell me you did not just say that." He ground out. "What's so horrible in your life that you'd want to die? We lost our dad too, ya know, and believe me, it ain't worth it. You'll get over the pain eventually. It isn't worth just giving up your life, or doing drugs!" He growled through clenched teeth, jaw flexing. "I mean I get it, I really do. The marijuana isn't so bad, I don't usually judge, but you had over eight different kinds of drugs in your system, Whitney! That's uncalled for!"

I was trying my damnedest to choke back the tears I felt welling up in my throat, and felt betrayed when they started spilling over my cheeks. I clenched my jaw shut and pressed my lips together. "You don't know what I've lost." I hissed at him through my tears. "You really want to know why I'm doing this? Do you really want to know?"

He nodded, hands clasped together in his lap as he leaned towards me. "Let's hear it."

I choked back a sob before I could speak again and I could see that the sound physically pained Sam.

"I was married. For six years. Every time I got pregnant I would have a miscarriage. Four babies. Four babies, Dean!" I nearly screamed. "He got tired of all the trouble and left me. Six years of marriage down the toilet because I couldn't give him a baby." I blinked as more tears rolled down my face.

Dean took a deep breath in through his nose and closed his eyes.

"Six months later my Dad died. I have no family. No children. My husband won't sign any divorce papers now that I'm wealthy." I sneered at him. "I am tired of being in pain."

"I've heard enough." Castiel said suddenly, stepping over to grab Dean by the arm and yank him out of the chair effortlessly. "You two go get her something to eat and alert the nurse that she's awake. I need to talk to her."

Dean had already stormed from the room before Castiel had finished speaking. Sam nodded at Castiel before squeezing my foot affectionately. "I programed all of our numbers into your phone while you were asleep. If you need anything at all just call us." He gave me a half smile and stepped around the corner.

When we were alone Castiel pulled a chair up next to my left side and sat down. He was barely two feet from my face and I was suddenly nervous to be alone with him. His dark hair stood up in messy spikes as if he was forever running his fingers through it. His black eyelashes were a striking contrast against the bright blue of his eyes. He had a strong jawline and a strangely sexy cleft in his chin. When my gaze fell upon his parted lips he chose to speak.

"I wanted to talk to you." He said gruffly. "To make sure you are doing alright."

I shrugged and wiped at my eyes, trying to rid myself of the tears staining my face. "I'm doing fine, Castiel." I sighed, fiddling with the blanket and avoiding his eyes.

"Cass." He muttered softly.

I turned to him. "What?"

"I would prefer it if you called me Cass. It is a term of endearment between friends. Or so I'm told."

I felt the corner of my mouth tug up into a small smile and Castiel's face softened.

"Cass," I repeated, my face burning with embarrassment.

"Do you have a fever?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Your face is incredibly red." He reached out and pressed his hand to my forehead. I closed my eyes and sighed at the warmth of his hand. My abdomen twisted with anxiety and desire. I felt partially ashamed for feeling sexually attracted to an Angel and it definitely didn't help that he was insanely handsome.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his head tilted to the side in his normal manner.

I nodded and he pulled his hand back. "You seem to be fine. No fever. Although I do not understand why your face is so red. Should I call the nurse-"

"Cass, I'm fine. Really. I'm just-" I groaned. I really didn't want to have this conversation.

"You're just what?"

"I'm embarrassed." I stared down at the bed, gaze lingering on my cast. It had writing on it already.

"Why are you embarrassed?" He questioned.

I glanced up at him underneath downcast eyes and swallowed nervously. "I- uh… Cass, this really isn't what I want to talk about right now."

He paused for a second and then narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back. "I see." the movement made me self conscious, it felt like he could read my mind.

"What did you want to say to me?" I offered, hoping he would change the subject.

He glanced to his left and sighed. "I just wanted to let you know... that it's not your fault these things happened to you."

He wet his lips and made brief eye contact before looking away again. He seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"Your husband was a terrible man," he paused and grasped my hand. Electricity shot through me as he held my fingers. I shouldn't be this turned on by an Angel, I really shouldn't. What is wrong with me?

"He didn't deserve you, and you don't need to beat yourself up about it."

"Look at me, Cass." I said flatly, and his eyes almost instantly met mine.

"Why are you saying this to me?"

He scrunched his nose up a bit, his eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you sitting here telling me shit I already know?"

Castiel tilted his head to the left. "I don't understand. I am-"

"Yes, you do," I interrupted. "You know exactly what I mean. You're here beside my hospital bed, holding my hand like you're my best friend. What do you want?"

He narrowed his eyes at me and for a second he almost looked angry, which is the one emotion I hadn't seen him express yet. "I am doing my job." He said slowly, "I am an Angel of the Lord and you are my charge. It is my job to look after you and make sure that you are well." He squeezed my fingers for emphasis.

I pulled my hand away from him and I could have sworn he looked disappointed. "Why? I don't even know if you're really an Angel or not."

Castiel pushed himself away from the bed and stood up, stepping in front of the TV, directly in front of me.

"You want proof?" He asked, his tone husky and low, eyes narrowed, chin tilted upwards. "I'll give you proof."

An intense, bright blueish-white light flashed in his eyes and I froze in place. Goosebumps prickled across my skin, down my arms and my spine. A blinding white light shone down on his shoulders, lighting up his silhouette along the wall behind him. Two large black shadows appeared behind Castiel like a crack of thunder, stretching out, unfurling what resembled giant, hawk-like wings.

I couldn't help but to stare at him, his eyes lit up with blue flame, wings outstretched behind him as he bathed in the celestial light that I knew in my heart came directly from heaven. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I trembled with emotion, my heart ached dully in my chest as the light faded and Castiel's eyes resumed their previous stunning color.

"Do you believe me now?" He asked huskily.

I choked back a sob in my throat and nodded. He was an Angel. An actual fucking Angel. There was a God after all.

"Why?" I gasped, gripping my hospital blanket so tightly that my knuckles were white.

"Why, what?" he sounded genuinely confused.

"Why did all of this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?" Tears streamed freely down my cheeks again and Castiel's eyebrows raised in concern.

"Please don't." He murmured. "Don't cry. You had no way of knowing this was your fate. God works-"

"I swear to you Castiel, if you say that 'God works in mysterious ways' I will fucking shoot you in the head just because."

His eyes widened a bit but he closed his mouth.

"My fate. My fate, you say. Why would God let me suffer like this, Cass? Why? All I wanted was to have babies with my husband and have a normal life. Why couldn't I just have that?!"

Castiel's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and I followed the movement.

"You are a Nephilim, Whitney. Do you know what that means?"

"No, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me…"

I challenged him sarcastically as he observed me.

"You are the offspring of a Son of God and Daughter of Eve. Half human and half Angel. You couldn't even begin to fathom the depths of the power you could control. Heaven considers you an abomination, but I disagree."

He gazed at me, cerulean blue rivaling my own steel gray. "I see an intelligent, dedicated, loyal woman in front of me who has been given the short end of the stick. It is true, it is very unfair for you to have gone through what you have and I want you to know that the children that you lost was not your fault."

I gasped and sobbed at the same time and it came out strangled. "Don't," I warned him, my throat swelling with emotion and tightening as tears threatened to pour again.

"You cannot bear a child fathered by a human. No Nephilim can. Your Grace rejects the flesh. No soul will ever enter a child you create with man. That is why you miscarried. Not any other reason than that."

I opened my mouth to ask 'why?' again, but he held up his hand. "I am not finished. You are not meant to procreate with a human, Whitney, and before you ask why I will tell you; you are meant for a greater purpose. Nephilim can only create life with an Angel, God made it so no mortal could ever give you what I could."

'What I could…' three little words and my sturdy wall that prevented me from feeling was torn down and crushed into rubble.

I crumpled, chest heaving with each broken sob, and as I pulled my hands up to cover my face he was right there pulling them away and holding me tight against him. I sobbed grossly on his shoulder and he held me, hard as stone and unmoving as I wept into his chest.

"I want you to understand very clearly that I do not want what you will not give me willingly. I am not here to make choices for you, or pressure you in any way. I only want to see you happy and to make sure you are eternally safe."

The gravelly baritone of his voice rumbled in his throat and I could feel the vibrations against my cheek. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me.

I didn't know how long we stayed like that, pressed against each other on the bed. I felt like if I let him go then I would never get to feel him again. His touch was possessive and powerful and I reveled in it.

He rubbed one hand up my back and pressed it between my shoulder blades. "I almost lost you." He whispered. "Back at the hotel before you were rushed here. I should have been able to heal you… but I couldn't. I failed you."

I buried my face into the crook of his shoulder and inhaled an unsteady, quivering breath. Castiel shuddered against me and I took the opportunity to press my lips to his throat. He made a guttural noise in his throat that sounded close to a growl and I instantly felt heat pool in my lower belly.

Dean turned the corner, holding out a grease stained brown paper bag triumphantly.

"Oh, woah!" He exclaimed, turning right back around and disappearing from sight. "Are you two decent?" He teased.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel said, clearing his throat. "I am comforting Whitney."

Dean stepped back around the corner and smiled at us. "That's just frickin' adorable."

I was unwilling to move from the space under Castiel's jaw, I wanted to be selfish and have him all to myself just a little longer.

Alas, Castiel pulled away and I felt an empty twist in my stomach; until he took my right hand in his and entwined his fingers with mine. Excitement bubbled up and I couldn't help but to smile. He met my gaze and mirrored me, giving me my first glimpse of his perfectly white teeth. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him, smiling at me for the first time, reallysmiling like he was incredibly happy to just be near me. His smile made his eyes light up like fireworks, eyes crinkling at the corners, nose slightly scrunched up. He was so perfect. My heart fluttered in my chest when he winked at me and I didn't know how I didn't die on the spot.

"God, you two are making me nauseous." Dean complained around a mouthful of burger. "You guys can't wait til tomorrowto eye fuck each other?" He snorted. "I mean, not that you won't be able to just bump uglies in her hotel room." He laughed, his mouth still full of food.

He stopped when I threw my water cup at him.

"Hey!"

"Where's Sam?" Castiel asked Dean, changing the subject, and I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. How would Sam have felt if he had walked in before Dean? For some reason I kept getting this feeling that Sam wanted more than just a one night stand.

Dean gestured to the hallway with his half-eaten burger. "Talking to the nurse and doctor. I think he's asking questions about the pain medication."

Castiel squeezed my hand and I met his gaze. "Are you in any pain?"

"Yeah. My stomach is pretty empty too."

No sooner had I finished the sentence when Dean tossed a burger into my lap. "Eat up, kiddo. Gotta get something on your stomach after four days of being asleep."

"Good, lord I slept for four days?!"

Dean nodded eagerly, mouth full again. He raised his eyebrows a couple times for emphasis.

"So, can anyone explain to me how I got here… or what happened?" I held up my left hand, showing off the purple cast. "Or maybe how the hell this happened…"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably beside me. "Um," he cleared his throat. "That would be my fault. I apologise, I sometimes forget how strong I am and I was preoccupied trying to hold you down while you seized."

I squeezed his hand and rested my forehead against him. "I forgive you." He hummed happily and brought my hand to his lips.

I glanced sideways at Dean who was now staring at us, one eyebrow cocked, mouth still full. I narrowed my eyes at him and he looked away, resuming the consumption of the burger in his hands.

I reluctantly pulled my hand from Castiel's grip and unwrapped my own burger.

"Cheeseburger with extra onions," Dean said, smiling.

I chuckled softly and took a bite, thoroughly enjoying the taste. Four days with no food can make a girl real hungry. Well, technically it had been almost a week since my last meal.

Once the nurse administered my pain medication and left, Dean sat forward in his chair and tapped the bed to get my attention. He and Sam sat side by side in the guest chairs with Castiel sitting on the side of the bed next to my legs.

"So, you wanna maybe let us know why you're doing this to yourself? I mean, other than the obvious."

"I'm wondering why you care so much." I sighed.

He shook his head as if it were obvious to everyone but me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you guys here? I get it, you helped me out and brought me here when I was in trouble, but why stick around?"

Dean barked out a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "We save people. It's our job." He glanced at Sam and he nodded in agreement.

"Besides, Cass said you're a Nephilim and you're under his charge now. That practically makes you family." He smiled at me, bottle green eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights.

When I didn't say anything he sighed through his nose and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? Out with it. What's your purpose, why did you leave Austin and why are you in Missouri of all places?"

I rolled my eyes and fiddled with the edge of my blanket. It was awkward with three sets of eyes on me waiting to hear my life story.

So I told them about my dad, how he was a Marine and that he raised me in Texas after my mother died. Told them about my abusive ex-husband, Edward. How he used to beat me after I would miscarry, the last time he nearly killed me. Broke my spine in several places and left me while I was in a coma in the hospital. After two months of being comatose I woke up to a letter next to my bed informing me he wanted a divorce because I couldn't have children. But, once my father died and he sat next to me in the reading of the will he decided he didn't want to sign the papers just yet.

"Now I'm on my way to my dad's hunting cabin in Wisconsin. He left me the keys to it and said 'I would find what I had been searching for there' whatever that meant. I planned on just taking a bottle of pills and going to sleep on his bed. You know, a clean death."

Castiel placed his hand on my leg and squeezed it affectionately. "You aren't going to do that are you?" He asked worriedly, dark brows raised high in alarm.

I shook my head. How could I? Not after what he and I talked about today. In a way Castiel was my guardian Angel. It was his job to protect me, he said so himself.

"No. Not anymore." I said quietly.

"Good," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"My dad also left me a package that his lawyer delivered himself."

"What was in it?" Dean sounded curious.

"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."


	7. Confrontation

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Seven;**

 **Confrontation**

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 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

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 **Hi, all! I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who left a review, and those of you who read my story and keep up with the updates. It's so very encouraging to hear that my story is liked and readers want more! It definitely motivates me to write quickly! A very special thanks to Salvatoreboys4ever for that very much needed boost, I'm so glad you're enjoying my story. I guess I'm always a little frustrated with myself when I write because it's never as perfect as I want it to be, but knowing that someone out there is excitedly waiting for more is so motivational to me that it's beyond words. I hope you enjoy my newest chapter :3**

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"How the hell does this douchebag even know where you are?" Dean asked angrily, shutting the door to Baby as he settled himself behind the wheel.

Castiel and I sat in the back seat together as Sam put my things into the trunk. As much as I wanted to hold Castiel's hand again, I refrained, for fear of making him or Sam uncomfortable in the confined space. I was conflicted about my feelings for Castiel and wondered how Sam would feel about me getting closer to the Angel. Was I accidentally breaking a bro code? Dean didn't seem to be bothered by the way he found us at the hospital. Although he seemed more detached from his feelings than Sam was.

I cleared my throat and glanced nervously at Castiel before I spoke. "He's a determined person, I'll give him that. I have no idea how he knows I'm here." Lie. I knew how, just not why. "My guess is that he knows I was admitted to the hospital."

Dean stretched his right arm along the front bench seat and turned to look at me. "How would he know that?"

"His best friend is my family doctor." I said.

"Oh, well, that's just fuckin' dandy!" he yelled. "I swear to God I'm going to kick his fucking ass when I see him. That bastard has no right to be looking for you!"

I didn't know why he felt so protective of me. It was sort of endearing, in a weird kind of way. He was still sort of a stranger to me, even if he said that I was like family now. I played with the cotton lining in my cast nervously. The weight of it feeling very foreign. I'd never broken a bone in my wrist before. My leg and my ankle once but never my arms or hands. I also couldn't stop messing with it, no matter what I did to try and quiet my mind.

"Don't start anything, Dean. It's not that I don't have faith in you being able to kick his ass, really I do, but if we can avoid conflict it would be best for everyone."

"Yeah, but-"

Sam then opened the passenger door, cutting Dean's statement short, and slid inside. "Bag's in the trunk." He said, closing the door with a slam.

"Hey! Be careful with Baby." Dean scolded before turning to face me again.

"Do you know what he wants at least?"

"Nope. All he said was that he was at the hotel and wanted to know where I was. He didn't reply to my text."

Dean looked skeptical but turned around and started the car anyway. Baby roared to life and the loud rumble of her engine helped calm my nerves. I absolutely adored classic cars, and Baby was definitely a beauty.

"Just promise me that you'll keep your distance from him. I don't want to end up killing him in broad daylight for putting his hands on you." Dean said as he pulled out of the Hospital's parking lot.

"I can assure you, Dean, that if he comes even remotely close to Whitney with ill intentions I will deal with him accordingly." Castiel managed to make his threat sound surprisingly nonchalant. I idly wondered if this was how he was all the time. Did he ever lose his temper?

My ex was stretched out on the back of my car when we pulled in. I immediately felt hatred flare in my chest. I didn't like anyone touching my car, let alone my ex lounging on it like he fucking owned it. Edward sat laid out across the rear windshield and trunk, his hands behind his head comfortably and feet crossed at the ankles. He was wearing old faded blue jeans and a fitted graphic shirt depicting the characters from Suicide Squad.

It pissed me off to see him looking so relaxed and serene while I was barely keeping a hold of my emotions. I was mortified to have my new friends see my ex so soon after reluctantly telling them about our history. I was also extremely anxious about the confrontation that was likely to ensure after I exited the car. It was also a bit awkward given the fact that I had recently slept with Sam and now had Castiel willing to go to bat for me. It was my own fucked up version of a love triangle, only it also involved my abusive husband.

Sam pointed him out as we got closer to my car. "Is that him?"

I sighed, butterflies flitting around in my stomach like mad. I was so close to vomiting. "Unfortunately."

"What a fucking douche." Dean commented, parking Baby about twenty feet from where my ex currently was.

Without waiting for anyone else, I opened my door and got out of the car.

"Get off of my car, Eddie!" I shouted as I strode towards him.

He sat up, grinning like a mad man at me and put his hands in his lap. "But I'm comfy sitting here." He smiled at me as if to say 'what are you going to do if I don't?' and stayed firmly where he was. "Besides, is that really any way to greet your loving husband? I was worried about you, ya know."

I scowled at him. There was a time his cocky attitude and award-winning smile would have made my knees weak, but now all I felt was hatred and disdain.

I heard the boys get out of the car and I folded my arms across my chest. "Get off my car, Eddie. I'm not joking."

Edward laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, I'm so scared." I set my jaw and glared at him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have Dean beat him up. It might actually be satisfying to watch.

"That's your car?" Dean asked in disbelief from somewhere behind me. I ignored him as I watched Edward shift his gaze over my shoulder at him. "What a beaut."

"Who are your friends, Whitney?" He laughed and looked back to me. "You think your friends are gonna beat me up?"

I flexed my jaw and stood my ground, ignoring his taunting. I was determined to show him that I didn't need him and that he didn't hold power over me any longer.

"We might." Dean said lazily, sounding very confident. "You should probably do what she says and get the hell off her car." I glanced behind me and felt significantly better as Dean, Sam and Castiel stood behind me. Castiel had his eyes narrowed at Edward, his hands clenched into fists at his side. It was like he was seeing something that nobody else was.

I could clearly see the anger in Edward's eyes as he regarded Dean and the two other men at his side. He slid down the trunk and pushed himself off, landing carefully on his feet.

"This isn't any of your business, buddy. Why don't you just let me talk to my wife in private? Go on, I'm sure you have better things to do." Edward stood in front of Stranger's trunk, his hands at his sides, feet firmly planted beneath him. He looked about as defensive as you could get.

Dean mockingly laughed at him. "I think it's a bit late for that, don't you think? What's with all this 'wife' shit anyway? Weren't you the one who filed for a divorce?"

Edward closed his mouth and eyed the three men in front of him suspiciously. Castiel was now at my side, still glaring at my ex as if he were an unwanted pest. Sam and Dean were now about five feet from my car, standing side by side. Sam had his right hand behind his back, gripping the gun that was tucked into the waist of his jeans.

"Whatever that bitch told you, it probably isn't the truth." Something deep inside of me was shouting with glee as I heard the uncertainty in Eddie's voice. You should be scared you fucking piece of shit. I found myself suddenly hoping that Castiel or Dean would make good on their threats. No matter the situation, it still felt terrible to have him call me a bitch. Especially now in front of Castiel.

"We don't need your sob story." Dean said sarcastically. "And it doesn't matter what she said to us, you look like the self absorbed piece of shit woman abuser that you very likely are. Now, why don't you run along so I don't have to smash your face into the concrete for calling her outside of her name, huh?" Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded at him encouragingly.

Edward tensed and balled his hands into fists. "You wanna run that by me again? I don't take kindly to threats, boy."

This amused Dean. He smiled and turned to Sam. "He's not afraid of me." He chuckled at his brother and Sam returned the smile. Looking at Edward, Sam shrugged. "You sure you wanna do this? We're giving you a chance to leave while you can."

Disbelief crossed Edward's face briefly before he looked back to me. "Baby, why can't you just talk to me? I just wanna talk, that's all. David called and said you were admitted to the hospital and wanted to know why I wasn't with you." Edward took a step towards me and I could sense Castiel's unease as he stiffened beside me.

"Are you okay?"

Fucking false niceties. This man was such a manipulative asshole. I was worried that he would talk his way out of this and make me out to be a liar.

"Don't pretend you care, Eddie. You already made it perfectly clear to me how you felt when you beat me within an inch of my life."

Anger tore across his face and he paused to compose himself before replying.

"I do care, Whitney. It's you who don't care. I already apologized for what I did, so there's no reason for you to hold it against me now."

I couldn't help but to laugh at him. "Are you fucking serious? I was lucky you didn't paralyze me, you prick! How could I not hold that against you? Not only were you the reason I was in a coma in the first place, you also left me while I was fighting for my life!"

I could feel tears threatening to spill again and it made me even more angry at him. I boldly stepped forward and closed the gap between us. "You can go to hell, Eddie!"

Edward scowled at me, his face reddening with anger. A vein throbbed at the side of his neck as he flexed his jaw. His normally soft blue eyes were so dark with anger that they were almost black. Suddenly he surged forward and slapped me across the face. "Watch your mouth you cunt." He hissed. "Maybe I should have fucking killed you. It's not like you're exactly worth anything. I bet the only reason you have these three with you is because you're fucking them. God, you're such a disgusting little whore."

I cradled my stinging cheek as I stared at him in shock. I hadn't expected him to actually hit me, or to say the things he was. Especially not in front of other people. I took a hesitant step back and just stared at the man I had loved since I was in high school. Anger twisted his face so much that I hardly recognized him. Could this really be the man I married? What happened to the sweet young man who promised me the world, took me to my first high school dance and proposed to me while kneeling in the rain with dozens of roses and 'Marry me' written out solely using candles? It was staggering to see the drastic change in him so clearly.

When I shook myself from my daze I realized that someone was holding me around my waist and Dean was shouting something unintelligible as Castiel punched Edward across his face repeatedly.

Holy hell.

Castiel had Edward pinned to the ground, his left fist balled up in my ex's shirt, using it for leverage as he struck him across the face. Blood spattered across the concrete after the fourth blow and I could finally recognize that Dean was yelling for Castiel to stop hitting him.

Castiel paused at Dean's words, fist still in the air, and glanced back at him. Everything had happened so quickly.

Eddie was smiling up at the Angel, his white teeth now coated with his blood. It was sort of sinister so see him looking so pleased as he lay battered and bleeding under Castiel.

"Cass, it's not worth it. You made your point. Let him up." It sounded like Dean was negotiating with him. "Come on, don't do something you'll regret."

Castiel looked back down at Edward and I got a good glimpse of his face. His mouth was twisted into a snarl and his eyes were so full of hatred that my chest tightened with anxiety. It shocked me to see the Angel look so damned angry. He was taking deep, ragged breaths and as I gazed at him I could see now that he had a large bruise forming under his left eye. Edward must have gotten a hook in sometime before being pinned to the ground.

Castiel struck him one final time, causing Edward to groan and spit out a large amount of blood. Castiel rose, dropping Edward to the ground in the process.

"Don't you ever… lay another hand on Whitney, do you understand?" Castiel seethed. "The next time I will not hesitate to kill you."

Eddie spit out another mouthful of blood and used the back of his hand to wipe at his lips. "Fucking psycho." He muttered, pushing himself up with shaky arms. Castiel watched him warily as he stood up and then glanced in my direction for the first time. Once our eyes met his face softened and he looked almost guilty.

"This isn't over, Whitney." Edward gasped, stumbling his way over to his truck. "I'll be back, and you won't have your friends around to protect you." The coldness of his voice sent shivers down my spine. "You're gonna regret this you fucking cunt! Just remember I gave you the chance to talk to me and you spat in my face." He climbed up into his truck and slammed the door. We watched as he peeled out of the parking lot, his wheels leaving long, black streaks on the pavement.

Part of me wanted to rejoice because I had gotten what I wished for. The other part was so shocked to see the violent side of Castiel that I couldn't form a coherent thought. All that kept running through my mind was my disbelief at the Angel's temper and the heat pooling in my belly. I was so incredibly turned on that I just couldn't help myself.

Without realising that I had pulled from Sam's grip around my waist, I was now standing in front of Castiel, his cerulean blue eyes boring into mine as I stared at him. I was so thankful that he gave Eddie what he deserved, that he stood up for me and was so deeply offended by my ex slapping me that he beat him up right then and there. I studied Castiel as he stared down at me. Impossible as it seemed, he was even more handsome with blood streaked across his face. His full, sculpted lips were parted slightly, his eyes darkened with anger, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, and all I wanted to do was just-

I grabbed the front of Castiel's white oxford and pulled myself up, pressing my lips firmly against his, letting my eyes flutter shut. They were so soft and slightly wet. I gasped against his lips when I felt an electric shock course down my spine. My entire body tingled and broke out in goosebumps. Castiel stiffened under my touch momentarily before he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, kissing me softly in return. I faintly heard Dean mutter something, but all I could focus on was how damn good it felt to have Cass' lips on mine. It was perfect. He was perfect, and I was in heaven. I couldn't even accurately describe the feelings that were washing over me, the only thing I had on my mind was how happy I felt being in the Angel's arms. I was beyond elated to have him reciprocate my kiss and the immense pleasure I felt at the simple motion was so overwhelming to me that my knees buckled beneath me.

Castiel broke our kiss with a soft noise and gazed down at me, his arms tightening around my waist to help keep me upright. His eyes swept over my face, shifting back and forth in repeated motions. His dark brows knitted together as he finally held my gaze.

"What was that for?" He asked breathily.

I blushed as he continued to stare at me. I was suddenly very shy and embarrassed that I kissed him the way I did. Had I been too bold for him? Do angels kiss often? I hoped I didn't scare him or make him feel uncomfortable. Then I realized exactly what I had done and glanced worriedly to where Sam had been standing, but both he and Dean were nowhere in the parking lot.

Castiel's arms tightened around me, pulling my gaze back to him. He reached up and brushed his fingers across my cheek and smiled down at me. "Thank you for that." He whispered. "It was very pleasant."

I flushed again and giggled nervously, fingers flexing in the fabric of his shirt. "I-Im sorry if that caught you off guard. I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right." He sighed, cutting me off from what possibly would have been an embarrassing ramble. "I thoroughly enjoyed it."

I kept getting this peculiar feeling that Castiel was a virgin. It might have been his body language, the way he went rigid as I kissed him, or the way he described it. Oddly enough the thought of him being a virgin sort of excited me. Not in a perverse kind of way, but more so because I would potentially be the first person he would be with physically, and the thought of him being with anyone else made me feel crazy with jealousy. Bizarre, I know.

"Was that the first time you've been kissed?" I asked, trying my damnedest to swallow the nervous lump in my throat.

"No," he murmured softly, his fingers now working their way into my hair. I fought down the pang of disappointment in my stomach and closed my eyes. His fingers felt really good against my scalp. "But I hope you to be the last person I kiss."

Castiel pulled away from me and it was disappointing. "let's return to your room. I'm told that public displays of affection can sometimes be uncomfortable to witness. It's best we take this somewhere more private." He grasped my hand firmly and encouraged me to walk beside him. I was now fully aware of how nervous I actually was. My legs felt like jelly and my stomach was in my throat. I was going to be alone with this Angel in my hotel room and I was, for once, at a complete loss for words.


	8. Potent Urges

**Fighting to Forget:**

 **Chapter Eight;**

 **Potent Urges**

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 **Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.**

 **Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.**

 **If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.**

 **Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.**

 **Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!**

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 **Okay, just another warning right quick before you start to read. This chapter went a whole lot deeper and darker than I expected it to. Very heavy angst here, guys. It took a dark turn about halfway through and although I hope I ended it on a fairly good note, I hope this doesn't trigger anyone or make you feel terrible about what you just read. That's the very last thing I want to do. So, apologies in advance if this chapter is a bit too heavy for you. I promise more fluffy stuff and maybe some more enjoyable things in the next chapter to make up for it. Thank you guys again for reading! Enjoy! (:**

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It felt so good to be able to stretch out on the bed. The crisp sheets underneath me were cool to the touch and smelled of fresh laundry. I hummed happily as I wrapped my arms around my pillows and squeezed them against me. The texture of my cast was scratchy against the linens and made an uncomfortable sound as it pulled across them. I was going to have a hard time getting used to that.

Curious as to what Castiel was doing, I opened my eyes and scanned the room. He stood by the couch in the attached lounge area and was flexing his hands on the lapels of his trenchcoat, almost as if he were contemplating taking it off but couldn't really decide either way. It was interesting to watch since I had never seen him take off a single article of clothing. Ever. Maybe I could coax him out of a few more layers.

There's the pervert inside of me talking.

"Why don't you take your coat off and stay awhile?" I asked casually, resting my chin on my cast. Castiel turned in my direction and gave me a bewildered look.

"Does having my coat on signal that I am about to leave?"

I couldn't help but to smile at him. He was just about as innocent as you could possibly be and it was so darn adorable. Then it occurred to me that if he were indeed a virgin, I would be responsible for teaching him how to… well, you know. And it would fall on my shoulders to make sure I taught him correctly. Nobody should be a selfish lover. There were far too many fuckboys these days messing around with young women, confusing them and shaming their sexuality while simultaneously teaching them all the wrong things about what it meant to pleasure someone.

Castiel always went above and beyond whatever was asked of him. I learned this much from how Sam and Dean spoke of his dedication while they were battling Lucifer. Castiel was always there to do whatever was asked, to help in any possible way he could. Even if that meant risking his own life. He was always happy to bleed for the Winchesters as long as it meant they were safe. I was also very sure that meant taking his time to ensure he was very thorough with his love making. He had so much untapped potential.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Castiel's rough voice broke my trance and snapped me back to reality. I had to blink a couple times as I composed myself, quickly trying to flush all of the dirty things I wanted to do to him from my thoughts.

"S-Sorry," I stuttered nervously. "I was daydreaming."

"In the middle of a conversation?" He paused and appeared to think for several seconds. "You humans are very complex. May I ask what exactly you were daydreaming about?"

Taking off your clothes with my teeth and tasting every single inch of you with my tongue.

I smiled at him, my face tinged hot with embarrassment. I waved my hand in the air absently in front of me. "Nothing, Cass. Nevermind." I sat up on the bed and crossed my legs underneath me.

Dark brows furrowed over brilliant blue eyes, but he didn't press me any further. Instead he slid his trench coat from his shoulders, folded it neatly in half and sat it on the back of the recliner. And since he was already taking off his clothes, I didn't see the harm in encouraging him to relax just a bit more.

"Your suit jacket as well."

When he turned to give me another bemused look, I gestured to his clothes. "Don't you ever get tired of being so dressed up all the time?"

He glanced down at himself and pulled at his shirt absently. "I don't know. I have always thought these clothes to be a part of my vessel. It never occurred to me to remove them."

"Your vessel?" I asked quizzically. What did he mean by vessel? All that came to mind was random ass thoughts about boats.

"Yes. His name was Jimmy Novak. Although, his soul is in Heaven now."

What the fuck? So he's inside someone else's body? Would that technically classify as a possession?

"So… you're telling me that you're possessing someone else's body?" Man, that was pretty fucked up. Here I was lusting after some poor dead man's body while an angel rode around inside of him. But, I had to admit, even though this was all kinds of fucked from Sunday, at least Castiel had good taste in men.

"Yes. Jimmy was a very devout man. I merely answered his prayer." He definitely had a talent for making monotone sound sexy, that's for damn sure.

"So, what do you really look like then? And where are your wings for that matter, are they always hidden?"

Castiel smiled at me affectionately, his eyes lighting up with something I couldn't quite place.

"You ask an awful lot of questions," He chuckled, amusement dancing in his icy blue eyes. "My true size is roughly equivalent to that of your Chrysler Building. My wings exist on the Seraphic plane parallel to our current one and I can summon them as I please. It is odd, though, your senses seem too dull to perceive them at this moment. As for what I look like… well, I admit that I'm slightly disappointed you can't already see my true self. It seems that your Grace has yet to be touched." He paused for a second, studying me intensely. "You have never used your powers."

"I never even knew I had any. Not until I met you." My Grace, untouched? What in the hell was that supposed to even mean?

Cass looked away then, turning from me like he said something that offended me. "I'm sorry. I know this is a drastic change for you."

"Yes, but a welcome one." I climbed off of the bed and stepped towards him. He turned his head and stared at me like he was trying to understand a complicated riddle. So I kept on speaking.

"Before I met you... Dean and Sam… I had nothing else to live for. It was over for me. I had my end all mapped out and everything. My family, my friends… all gone. Now I've got purpose. You gave me a reason to keep on living, Cass."

Castiel stared at me, apprehension plastered across his rugged features. He sighed noisily through his nose and sank down onto the edge of the couch, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

"It is very displeasing for me to know that you were going to end your life, Whitney. Although I am very thankful you have since changed your mind, I still feel aggrieved. Tell me, have I really sparked such a sudden and profound change in you? Or are you, as they say, 'putting on airs' to appease me?"

He used air quotations as he said the last part, causing me to burst into a fit of giggles. This apparently shocked him because he stared at me, mouth agape, like I had gone insane.

"I-I don't understand. Why are you laughing?" He sounded somewhat horrified.

"Because you're just so cute!" I giggled. "It's hard for me to take you seriously right now."

That and I just downright loathed talking about my feelings. I know, I know, not a positive coping skill. I shouldn't just bottle up my emotions and refuse to deal with them. I get it, but I always had trouble with expressing myself and Castiel didn't make it any easier for me to open up to him.

Besides, trying to explain to Castiel that he was the majority of why I felt the way I did would just be awkward for both of us. How do you explain something to someone else if you didn't quite understand it yourself? It was like a blind person describing color to another blind person. Terrible idea. I knew I wanted Cass, knew that I wanted him by my side, but I didn't know why I felt that way. There was always a reason for everything.

Castiel glanced down at his lap where he was fidgeting with his fingers now, his face tinged red with embarrassment.

"Here I thought I was getting this whole 'human' thing down," He muttered, sounding obviously discouraged. "All these emotions you humans feel are so overwhelming for me. I was only mortal for such a limited amount of time and yet it is far easier to fight a war in Heaven than to feel what you do in any single given day."

I made my way over to him, placing my right hand on his cheek tenderly. "You're doing really well though, Castiel. Seriously. I can't speak for any other Angels because you're the only one I've ever met, but if you're not used to feeling so many things all at once… I have to give you credit where it's due. Consider me impressed."

He tilted his chin back and made eye contact. Castiel was so damned handsome, and it didn't come as a shock this time when he stole the breath from my lungs once again. His large, steel blue eyes were wide with sorrow as he studied me, and it tugged uncomfortably at the corners of my heart. An angel shouldn't look so dejected. I mean, he was an angel for Pete's sake! A celestial being created by God, to be the warriors of Heaven. He should be in a white robe, perched on a fluffy cloud strumming his harp, not down here on earth wallowing in sin, filth and suffering from human emotion. That was probably the quickest way to damnation.

"It's complicated being human, Cass. I didn't mean for my comment to make you feel self conscious. It's just genuinely refreshing to talk to you." I brushed my thumb lightly across his cheek, thoroughly enjoying how soft he felt under my touch. "There's so much you don't know about being human, and believe me, that's a good thing. You're lacking all of the poor qualities we suffer from while maintaining all of the angelic qualities that make you who you are. You're so upfront and brutally honest and I wouldn't have you any other way."

The side of his mouth twitched up into a small smile and I returned it happily. I could live the rest of my life in content just by making him smile.

"Thank you for that." He whispered, his gravelly voice deep and alluring. "I feel much better, I think."

"You're very welcome, Cass. Don't ever change who you are, okay?"

He nodded once, solemnly, but kept his attention on my eyes. The way he watched me, ice-blue eyes boring into gray, it was like he could see through them and into my very soul. I felt open and exposed but strangely wasn't bothered by it. Because this was Cass, and that meant something special.

He was absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. Not solely based on his looks, no. That was only a small part of what mesmerized me. The real attraction, whatever enraptured me from the very second I first laid eyes on him… the way I felt that lightning sharp feeling shoot throughout my body… The real key to the bewitchment lay hidden deep behind innocent sapphire eyes.

I wanted so desperately to know, to understand what captivated me so. The longer I stared into those wide cobalt pools, the closer I felt to the answer I was looking for. I slid my thumb across his cheek again, caressing him softly but much more slowly this time, savoring how delightful he felt. Castiel's eyes fluttered closed at my touch, but opened wide in alarm when I finally withdrew my hand.

"May I ask you something?" he asked, his deep, guttural baritone coaxing a heated response from between my thighs.

"Sure, why not." I smiled at him, impressed that I was able to keep my voice steady. I was delighted that it was just the two of us in my room. Being alone with him excited me, like a teenaged girl left alone with her boyfriend for the first time. Castiel's expression stayed pensive as he gazed at me.

"May I kiss you?"

My heart skipped a beat and lodged itself in my throat. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and neck, the pressure deafening in my eardrums. My stomach lurched with anxiety and my hands suddenly felt clammy and damp.

It amazed me that this man- this Angel, could elicit a reaction from me so powerful with a single question alone. It was such a simple and innocent request. But my thoughts were always straying where they shouldn't and were currently at the complete opposite of the spectrum. The roughness of his sultry voice combined with his devilishly good looks had me so turned on that I could barely breathe, let alone speak.

I settled on nodding my approval.

Castiel's serious look melted away as he stood up, and I could have sworn he was smirking at me. His large hands came up to cup my face gently between his palms, and I was quite sure that I was now shaking like a leaf beneath his touch.

I couldn't help but to stare at his lips in anticipation. They were pink and perfectly sculpted. So lush and sweet that they really had no right being on a man. He had the kind of lips that needed to be kissed over and over again, until they were spit-slick and swollen. My heart started to ache strangely in my chest, and I was mystified yet again by my emotions. It seemed so peculiar to me that I would feel this way just as he was about to kiss me.

Then, glory hallelujah, his lips were on mine. Hot, demanding and rough, and it was so very far from the tender, sweet kiss we shared in the parking lot. He was all but devouring my lips, hungrily capturing them, nipping gently, like he was a damned soul and I was his only chance at salvation. He moved them so sensuously against mine that I unconsciously moaned, very loudly, into his mouth.

Castiel seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue past my lips to graze against mine in a tantalizing dance. I groaned into his mouth, tasting coffee and something distinctly Cass. His tongue massaged mine with confident and assured strokes, driving all thoughts from my head and forcing me to focus on him. Only him. Castiel. Fireworks burst behind my eyelids, my body shuddered in pleasure against him and I grasped at his shirt, desperate for something to help ground me as I started to float away.

Castiel groaned deeply, the noise mirroring a primal growl in the back of his throat. Somehow I recognized it. The feral thing screaming one word in a language older than time.

Mine.

He dropped his hands from my face only to grasp me roughly by my hips and pull me possessively up against his body, fitting us together like we were specifically made for one another. Expertly tailored to fit every edge, curve and dip of our bodies perfectly into one being. I could feel him against me, deliciously hot and rigid through his slacks as his hips rocked against mine in mild desperation. I would give anything in the world to know what Castiel was feeling. He was so unbelievably hard, grinding his erection against me with slow, hungry strokes.

We were in Heaven. We had to be. I couldn't think of any other possible explanation for the way lust seemed to be aggressively dominating and consuming every other feeling in my body, until all that was left was this dull ache in the apex of my thighs that demanded immediate satisfaction.

I have kissed a lot of men during my time. A lot. A few women as well, but this… this. With Castiel… it was so vastly different from anything I had ever experienced. It felt like my soul was vibrating in ecstasy right alongside my body, calling out for something unknown to me.

What was this Angel doing to me?

Castiel broke the kiss with a lewd sound and pulled back to look down at me. Dark lashes shrouded his electric blue eyes, giving him a dangerous, yet oh-so-sensual look that had me wringing my fingers in his shirt anxiously. It was all I could do to keep from tearing the oxford from his body. His hands held onto my hips firmly as he surveyed my face, both of us still struggling to catch our breath.

"Wow," I gasped finally, still trembling in his hardened grip. That was definitely something else. I had severely misjudged Castiel's ability to kiss by a long shot. That was, without a doubt, the best kiss I had ever experienced in my lifetime.

He smiled down at me gently and wetted his lips. And It was such a small thing, really. The very essence of the word innocent. Tongue flicking out briefly before disappearing back behind those perfectly heart shaped lips. I had never been so eager to rip a man's clothes off before. But this was Cass, and everything he did had such a profound effect on me that I couldn't help but to wonder if I would ever get over being so insanely attracted to him.

I was a woman possessed.

"I learned that from the pizza man," he sighed breathily, his smile slightly lopsided.

"Whatever that means," I said quickly, leaning up to meet his lips again. I wanted more of him, edging ever so close to being utterly frantic with need. I loved the way his lips felt against mine, so fucking soft and kiss-swollen it should have been illegal.

Everything inside of me was screaming out for his touch, frenzied with lust, like I had been starving my entire life and here I was in front of a buffet… all I had to do was reach out and take what I wanted.

He squeezed my hips forcefully and pulled me impossibly closer. I shifted my hips forward against his as I kissed him fervidly. Castiel abruptly moaned against my lips, the sound so delightfully shameless in my ears. That noise he made- God, I could live the rest of my life deaf and never forget how erotically satisfying he sounded.

He didn't bother to hold back at all, nobody ever having told him not to express what he was feeling. It sent potent waves of pure carnal desire straight to the apex of my hips and all I could think about was how absolutely perfect Castiel would feel buried to the hilt inside of me. I shifted my hips against his again, deliberately grinding against his cock, and was rewarded with another shameless, wanton moan.

Castiel's hips rocked against mine, instinctively searching for friction he so obviously needed. All of my nerve endings were aflame and I hopelessly needed to feel his bare skin against mine.

That's precisely when Dean decided to open the door to my room and proceed to wolf-whistle at us.

"Damn, guys, hot and heavy! It's all nice and steamy in here. I would have thought you two'd be done by now!" He laughed loudly at his own joke. "Yeah, Cass!"

I jerked my head in Dean's direction, only catching a brief glimpse of Castiel's irritated expression as I turned and glared at the intrusive blonde man. Dean watched me as he opened up a beer using his ring and took a long draw from the bottle.

"Really, Dean?!" I shouted. "You're getting to be a real pain in my ass, you know that?"

I reluctantly pulled away from Castiel and smoothed down my shirt. It had somehow ridden up as we were basically dry humping each other in the middle of the room. As hard as I tried to steady my breathing and quiet my erratic heart, I couldn't seem to stop thinking about just how heavily we had been kissing and grinding against one another. I was dizzy with lust and something else just beyond my conscious grasp. Everything seemed so foggy and disoriented now. Was this how it always was with angels? Completely ruled by animalistic urges that only made one thing a top priority; copulation. Just kiss, fuck and suck your way through the night and give fuck-all to everything else!

"Alright you two, cool it down. We've got something important to discuss. When I leave feel free to tear each others clothes off, but for right now we have something that needs taken care of."

Dean made his way over to my suitcase, pulled it open and started rummaging through my clothes and personal items. I abandoned my previous train of thought and immediately slipped into a intervention-level defense mode.

"What are you doing?" I asked angrily, stalking over to him and trying to shut the lid to the luggage. Dean grabbed my cast-free arm gently and gave me a stern look.

"I want to know where you keep your drugs. You promised us that you'd stop doing them and I'm here to make sure you keep your word. I don't doubt that you've got more in your car somewhere."

Oh, right. Fucking fantastic. This was going to be tougher than I had anticipated. My heart was still pounding in my chest and I needed to distract myself. I really needed a cold shower. I didn't want to be a sticky puddle of hormones and lust while trying to have a serious conversation with Dean.

I didn't know how to explain to him. I didn't think Dean would judge me, but I was quite simply terrified. Using had become a major part of my life and everything I did, usually in some part, revolved around my next high. I woke up every day and immediately did whatever I could to attain a head change. Would I be okay just being me? Sure, the withdrawal process was going to be excruciating, at best, but would I even know who I was without something making me feel happy when I really wasn't? I didn't know how I managed as long as I had before using for the first time. What did I do before I discovered drugs to make myself happy?

I honestly couldn't remember anymore.

Dean scowled at me. "Don't tell me you changed your mind. I'm not above tying your ass up on the bed and dumping everything myself. I'd hate to say this, but I'll rip apart your car if I have to."

I sighed in agitation. "Jesus, Dean! There's no sense in threatening my car! Come on! And, no. I haven't changed my mind." I paused to collect my thoughts so I could forge them into a cohesive sentence that would actually make some sense. "I'm just really fucking scared."

Now it was Dean's turn to look at me in total confusion.

"What are you scared of?" He paused, and then realization blossomed across his face. "Not me, Whitney... I didn't mean that as a literal threat, you know that. I would never hurt you." His voice grew soft and he placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

"It's not that. I know you wouldn't-" I couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled up unexpectedly, remembering how Dean had stood up to Edward in my defense. Eddie looked terrified as he ran to his truck. However, my laughter was cut short as I tried to swallow down the unexpected lump rising in my throat. It threatened tears and yet another crying session. Anxiety erupted white-hot in my chest like a solar flare.

The horribly acute wave made me nauseated almost instantly. I glanced back at Castiel for reassurance. He was regarding Dean and myself thoughtfully, his hair standing on end in its usual gravity-defying way and his gorgeous blue eyes were so full of remorse that I had to tear myself from his gaze lest I start to cry.

An angel felt sorry for me. And fuck if that didn't make me feel guilty as all hell.

"Then what is it?" Dean prompted, his voice sounding like what neared impatience. "God knows I shouldn't be the one preaching to you about showing your emotions, but I do want to help you. As I said, you're family now." He rubbed the top of my head roughly with his palm, messing up my hair in the process. I swatted at his hand and flattened my hair back into place as best I could. "You're the little sister I never had. This is what big brothers are here for."

I gave him the best smile I could muster and took a deep breath in through my nose. Dean seemed to be genuinely worried about me, so I might as well just take the opportunity, while I still had it, and get everything off of my mind. Someone who actually cares about another person is too rare of a thing in this world, and yet here one was… willing to help me figure out my life and reassure me that everything will be alright.

"I'm scared that I won't know who I am without it. I've been doing this for most of my adult life, Dean. It's been the easiest way for me to deal with everything. Oh, I feel sad today? No matter. I'll just take a Percocet and feel better in less than thirty minutes. Is anxiety warping my reality in order to belittle and make me feel inadequate? Bah! I'll pop a couple Xanax and wash it down with some whiskey and soon I'll be floating on air." I paused, worried now that somehow confessing all these things out loud to Dean and Cass would make me look like a junkie not worth their effort and time. I'd be left alone once again.

Losing Dean and Sam… yeah, it would hurt like hell. They were sweet boys, caring and compassionate. Saviors of the world, really. And they cared about me. I was lucky. And then there was Castiel… the Angel of the Lord, my guardian angel. Deeply aggrieved by my pain and suffering. And when I thought about the Angel turning his back on me… it was more than I could bear.

The thought of losing Castiel was so horrifying to me that I instinctively went rigid in fear. Terror coursed down my spine like an evil torrent of dismay and I felt like I was drowning in my sorrow. I'd never felt anxiety this intensely before, and believe me, I have had more than my fair share of panic attacks. This was definitely far from anything remotely close to normal.

Should I even be feeling this way about a man that I had known for less than a week? Some dark, unknown part of me was clinging to Castiel with an iron grip and was refusing to let him go. It intrigued, confused and frightened me all at once. I felt like my soul was calling out to the Angel, begging to be fused together. The very thought of not having him by my side sliced through to my core and made me wish I were dead instead of suffering without him. It would completely shatter me on the inside.

Overwhelmed with this new imaginary sense of grief, I choked back a sob. I wouldn't be able to recover from losing inside of me needed Castiel, that much I was certain of. So I knew, deep down, that if I lost him… I would certainly die.

"Whitney?" Dean's voice shook me from my thoughts.

"Sorry." I said quickly, shaking my head. Willing the thoughts of despair out of my mind. "This is hard for me to talk about." I was shaking from my imaginary scenario.

Was it really my imagination though?

I'd like to think of myself as a very imaginative person, able to think about things as if it were truly real. But the emotions that swept over me as I thought about losing Castiel were so extreme and ferocious that I had to ask myself if it were something else that was prompting me to feel this way.

Nothing I ever thought about before had caused me to endure what I just had simply by thinking about it. It was so fuckingreal… Would I truly die if I lost Castiel? Is this just another fucked up way that my mental illness controlled my life? I wasn't entirely sure, and for a split second I wasn't sure of anything at all.

"Say I give all this up, Dean." I said flatly, staring at the wall, so I wouldn't have to look at his face. I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes. The phantom anguish that racked my body only moments before still had me sick to my stomach.

"What am I left with, huh? A broken girl who wasn't good enough for her husband? Or A lonely daughter whose parents and entire family are dead. I don't have any friends anymore. In a very real way… substance abuse has filled up the gaps inside of me. Made me whole again. Fucked up, maybe. But whole. Having a buzz is like being in love with the perfect person." I sighed and blinked back tears as they pricked my eyes.

"She's always available when you need her the most. Always supportive of you no matter what you're dealing with. Always more than willing to make you feel normal again. When you're at your lowest and feel like you're worthless... when you're suffering alone and you keep thinking that you couldn't possibly go on living another day… all you have to do is put that little needle in your vein, and within seconds she's there, embracing you in her arms and making everything all better. That's when I feel happy again. Truly. Fucking. Happy."

I looked at Dean then, making deliberate eye contact. His mouth was slightly ajar, emerald green eyes wide and watering, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. A perfect mix of disbelief and pain painted across his handsome features.

"This is the hardest thing I've ever done, Dean. I want to give up on using. I really, desperately do… but I'm terrified of who I am deep down without the comfort of my pills and alcohol or whatever else that makes up the security blanket I cuddle up with when shit gets too real for me to handle. Can you honestly say that you've felt this way about anything? Can you connect with me… actually understand what it's like for me to go through something like this?"

Dean swallowed and then cleared his throat, a single tear betrayed his normally stoic personality, rolling freely down his face before he caught it and wiped it away with his hand.

"I-I can't. I didn't realize…" He paused and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. "You're so much stronger than I gave you credit for, Whitney." He murmured quietly, gaze now fixated on the floor at his feet. "I feel like a complete jackass for how I've gone about this. I want to help. Tell me how I can help."

Only then did I realize that I had been holding my breath. I forced myself to relax, taking a much needed breath of relief. This day was just getting to be too much for me already. Broken wrist. Asshole ex-husband starting shit with my friends. Castiel beating Edward's ass was definitely a bonus though... and the way he kissed me… how it felt to be moulded to his body like a fitted glove... it was beyond any description.

What worried me most of all were these strange feelings manifesting inside of me. Forcing me to feel things that weren't real, in high definition surround sound. I had never before felt anything quite so compelling in response to my mind asking a hypothetical question. It had me unnerved and on edge.

I had to bring this up to Castiel at some point. Maybe it had something to do with my Grace. I was half Angel after all, so something this bizarre wasn't entirely impossible… right?

On top of everything that happened today, good and bad, I was now giving up the only thing that had always been there for me when nobody else was. I didn't want to let go. Not yet. I needed to get high, and now. The urge to use, to shoot a syringe full of Meth into my vein and ride the high for as long as I possibly could before blacking out, was so insistent and demanding that I couldn't stop myself from reaching for the small black pouch in my suitcase.

I held it against my chest, sort of cradling it as if it were the most important thing in the world. This was the end of a large section of my life

A part of my personality, and I was grieving for the me that I had known for the past five years.

This was for the best, though. The Whitney who was strung out, struggling with depression and anxiety, using any and every drug she could get her hands on... She was going to die today. I was going to bury her. In doing so, I would force her anger and self loathing into oblivion where they would hopefully transform themselves into the blissful peace and serenity that she rightly deserved.

Right after I got high for the last time.


End file.
